A Losing Battle
by BlazeEBlakeTD
Summary: Set after Cell's defeat, this B/V story takes place during the 7-year gap before the World Tournament/Majin Buu saga. I tried to keep everyone as in character as possible and will try to update regularly. Contains Lemon! Please rate and review!
1. After the Games

Bulma beamed up at the sky, watching her son's time machine fade and disappear. It was strange, missing him when just behind her, her mother held a tiny version of him, her version, in her arms. As if reading her mind, the infant began loudly fussing , pulling her attention back to him and the present.

"I bet you're hungry huh little guy?" she cooed, turning to face her son, "Don't worry, mama will get you something in just a sec."

"I can take care of him sweetie!" her mother chirped, "You should spend some time with your friends and that handsome Vegeta." Bulma glanced over at the Saiyan leaning against a tree, far apart from the others. As usual, he didn't look much in the mood for company or conversation. Shaking her head, Bulma walked in the opposite direction, toward someone she knew would appreciate her attention. Gohan stood ahead of the others, his eyes still fixed skyward and a faint smile on his face.  
"I miss him already." she said, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder.  
"Me too," he said, finally turning his gaze to her, "But, he's not really gone. Not all the way. Just now I felt him, I know I did."

"Sounds like Goku alright. Hey, let me know if you or your mom need anything ok? I'm here for you guys, any time."

"Thanks Bulma. I think she just needs some time. I mean, dad being gone again was hard enough, and on top of that she's been sick all morning."  
"Should I send one of our doctors over? We have tons of 'em here at Capsule Corp."  
"No, I think it's probably just nerves. But now that I mention it, I should probably head home, make sure she's ok."  
"Alright, but like I said, if you guys need anything-"  
"We'll let you know." He smiled at her, lifted into the air, and flew off.

One by one, the other Z-Fighters began to take their leave as well and Bulma soon found herself alone in the yard. She began to head back inside the compound when she noticed that Vegeta had not gone off like the others. He remained leaning against the tree at the far end of the compound, eyes closed. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn he was sleeping. Against her better judgement, she squared her shoulders and walked over to him.

"Vegeta?" she called out softly.  
"Hnn." he grunted, eyes still closed.

"Do-do you wanna come inside?" No answer this time.  
"Look," she continued, "I know you don't really have a place to go, so you're welcome to stay here..." She was immediately reminded of their first conversation on Earth, when she had offered both him and the Namekians a place to stay following Freeza's defeat. And just like last time, she wasn't certain of what the Saiyan prince would do. When he remained silent once more, Bulma rolled her eyes and turned back toward the house.  
"Offer's on the table," she called over her shoulder, "Oh, and if you want to leave again, make sure you ask for a ship this time, instead of stealing one… Jerk." She mumbled the last word under her breath, knowing full well he probably heard her. Part of her had said it out of frustration, but another part had hoped to get a rise out of him, to trigger something beyond the quiet stoicism he had displayed since Cell's defeat. Yamcha and Mirai-Trunks had given her the short version of what had transpired at the sick tournament Cell had put them through, and no one had been more surprised than her to learn that Vegeta had flown into a blind rage after his son had been struck down. Once the battle was over, he had returned to the compound and retreated to his room. Today was the first time she had seen him since then. Truly, she hadn't expected him to come out at all. But when she stepped out onto the lawn to see her son off, there he was, watching like the rest. Between seeing his son killed and the death of his rival, something had changed in Vegeta. She just wasn't sure of what.

Once inside, she headed into the kitchen. She expected to find her mother there, alternately feeding and spoiling her child, but the room was empty. She could only assume that Trunks had been fed and was now being put down for a overdue nap. Shrugging, she opened the fridge and peered inside. She wasn't much of a cook, but she could manage a few simple things when she had to. Thankfully, there were a few leftovers sitting right at the front of the machine's well stocked shelves. Grabbing a couple of containers, she stood up and shut the door, only to find Vegeta standing beside her. Startled, she jumped back and nearly dropped the boxes she had carefully balanced in her arms.

"Damn it!" she cried, scowling up at him, "Don't sneak up on me like that!" The ghost of a smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth and then disappeared, his face once again becoming unreadable.  
"Well?" Bulma asked, "Can I help you?"

"Looks like you're the one in need of help," he replied gruffly, "Jumping out of your skin and nearly wasting all of that food for no good reason."

"Hmph." She turned her back to him and began working at warming up her food.  
"I will stay," he said finally, "To see to my son's upbringing."  
"Our son," she corrected, "And I suppose you'll also want to eat up MY food and use MY gravity room while you wait around to pick a fight with someone else."  
"Kakarot is gone… I will never fight again." Bulma turned, eyes wide with surprise.  
"Never?" she exclaimed, "Really?"  
"I don't have to explain myself to you!" he said roughly.

"It's just, since I've known you fighting's all you cared about. Before the androids showed up you nearly killed yourself just to get stronger. You're really just gonna quit?" He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. She had an urge to reach out to him but thought better of it. Before the androids, the nights they shared together were ones born of loneliness and reckless passion; the first time had been a surprise to them both. But once Trunks was conceived, they had drifted apart to the point where she had scarcely seen him at all. Not that she'd gone looking for him; she'd told herself over and over again that what they had was fleeting and physical. But perhaps she hadn't been entirely truthful when it came to her heart. She couldn't deny the fact that she had been happy to see he had survived the fight against Cell, that a part of her had been relieved to see him return to her home in one piece. And now, seeing him this way, clearly conflicted and perhaps even wounded, she felt a strange stirring inside of her. This felt different from the heat that had roiled in her stomach when she'd let him take her all those months ago. This felt like…  
"What are you staring at woman?" he grumbled, breaking through her thoughts.

"Nothing," she said, shaking herself gently, "Sorry. Anyway, seems like a shame to let the GR go to waste. You're the only one who had any use for it and now-"  
"Who said I wouldn't be using the Gravity Chamber?" he interrupted, raising one of his thick eyebrows.  
"Well, you said you were done fighting, so I just assumed…"  
"I won't allow myself to get soft in times of peace, if that's what you're thinking."  
"That sounds more like it. Hey are-are you hungry?" He didn't respond, but instead sat at the small table in the center of the room, arms still crossed against his well-sculpted chest. She nodded and turned back to the food.

"Make it snappy woman," he said suddenly, "I've got much better things to do than wait for a meal to be prepared."

"Keep that up and you can fix it yourself, you highness!" she shot back. She heard him grunt and then there was silence. Admittedly she had missed that too: the verbal sparring between them. Afterall, no one fought quite like Vegeta and she was more than capable of holding her own in an argument.

"I'm glad you made it back," she said softly.

Vegeta stood in the center of the gravity room, pieces of training drones scattered about his feet. After he had eaten all the woman had to offer, he had set about resuming his training. He had put all of his frustrations, all of his disappointments and anger into this session and it still hadn't been enough. Just like it hadn't been enough against the androids or Cell. His shoulders sagged and he staggered against the increased gravity as he walked to the room's control panel. He shut off the machine and and slumped against the wall, waiting to catch his breath. Once his panting had ceased, he exited the chamber and headed up to his room to shower. As the hot water streamed down his face and body, he struggled to put all thoughts of the battle and his fallen rival out of his mind. But try as he might, it all still haunted him; his defeat at the hands of that creature, being bested by not just Kakarot, but the man's half-Saiyan brat, losing the only remaining member of his race and the only being who he had yet to prove himself against. It was all too much." He slammed his fist into the wall with a snarl, sending a line of cracks through its tile. He shut off the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and exited into his room. Just as he had finished drying himself off and thrown on another pair of shorts, he heard a faint cry coming from down the hall.  
'Trunks' he thought. Before he knew what he was doing he shot out of his bedroom and burst into the small nursery the woman and her parents had set up. Night had fallen while he was showering and the room was dark except for a the faint glow of the moon coming through room's sole window. Peering into the tiny crib, he found himself staring into his son's wide blue eyes, wet with the beginnings of tears. He glanced over the child and, finding no apparent injury or reason for his upset, scoffed.  
"None of that," he cautioned the child brusquely, "No son of mine will lay here blubbering over nothing." The infant continued to stare up at him curiously. After a few moments, his face cracked into a smile and he reached up toward his father, clenching and unclenching his tiny fists. Gingerly, Vegeta held a finger out to his son. Trunks latched onto his father's outstretched hand and tugged at him, as if trying to pull him closer, and the elder Saiyan's face softened.

His son. He had never wanted a child, and when the woman had announced her pregnancy to him he had balked at the very idea of fathering the half-breed. Now, as much as it pained him to admit, he found himself invested in the child's survival. Unbidden, the memory of the android's attack on the woman's aircraft came to mind and, not for the first time today, he felt shame rise within him. He hadn't cared then, hadn't for one moment thought about his child's safety. From now on, things would be different.

"He's got a pretty strong grip already," a voice said behind him. Vegeta quickly turned from his son's crib and saw the woman leaning against the door.  
"I-I heard him cry out," Vegeta said, pulling his hand from Trunks grasp. The boy yowled in protest.  
"He does that." Bulma quipped, walking up to the cradle and picking up her son, "He probably just wanted a little attention." Vegeta watched out of the corner of his eye as she checked his diaper and then gently rocked the child. Within a few moments the infant's eyelids slid shut and his head fell against his mother's shoulder. She laid him back down gently and flashed Vegeta a smile.  
"He's usually a handful at bedtime but I guess we managed to wear him down enough today," she said, "It was nice of you to check on him…" He said nothing in return, choosing simply to stare down at his son for a few beats more before moving to leave.

"Vegeta." she called after him softly, "They told me about what happened. After Cell… Killed our son." He paused in his retreat, keeping his back to her.  
"That can't have been easy, seeing something like that," she continued, "Is that why you stayed? To be here for Trunks and make sure nothing like that-?"  
"He is my son," Vegeta replied, "And on my honor, I will protect him… With my life if I have to." Suddenly he felt her hand on his arm.  
"That means a lot Vegeta," she said, coming to stand before him, "Really." It had been many months since they had physically been this close to one another. Her familiar scent filled his nostrils, leaving him with a heady, intoxicated feeling he knew all too well. He had almost forgotten she could make him feel this way. Before, when he had been training for battle, it had been something he railed against; an unwelcome distraction in his quest to become the legendary Super Saiyan and surpass Kakarot, a physical weakness he hated himself for giving into. But now he welcomed the distraction she could provide, a temporary reprieve from his chaotic thoughts and the frustrations he had been unable to release in his training that day. For a few moments they stood staring at one another, blue and onyx eyes fixed and questioning. Neither could say who moved first, but all at once her arms were around his neck, his hands at her hips, and their mouths crashed together violently. The kiss deepened and he ran his tongue across her soft lips, demanding entry. She obliged with a gentle moan, allowing him to explore her fully. As quickly as he had arrived in the nursery, Vegeta fled it, racing back to his room with the woman in his arms. They fell on to his bed in a tangle, desperately pressing against one another. He rolled on top of her and tore off the flimsy shirt she wore, revealing her round, full breasts. He lowered his mouth to the left one and cupped the other, alternately running his tongue and calloused thumb over her sensitive nipples. She arched into his touch, biting her bottom lip and closing her eyes as she tried and failed to suppress another moan. Slowly, he removed his hand from her breast and trailed it down her body to the waistband of her underwear. He tore these off as well, the fabric giving way with a satisfying ripping sound, and moved his hand down further. She gasped as he slid two fingers into her, stroking her from the inside whilst simultaneously massaging the silky bud just above her opening.

"Yes!" She groaned, "Just like that! Don't stop!"

He ceased his ministrations abruptly and brought his lips to her ear.

"Beg me," he whispered harshly, a cruel smirk playing about his lips. Her eyes snapped open and she stared back at him defiantly. Then, with a wicked grin of her own, she ran her left hand across his chiseled abdomen, reached down his shorts, and took hold of his rock hard erection. He let out a muted growl as she ran her fingers up and down the length of him tortuously. She turned her head and he could feel her hot breath against his own ear.

"You first prince," she whispered. He snarled as he removed his fingers from her and pulled off his shorts, releasing his substantial arousal. He grabbed her hand and pinned it to the mattress.

"No more games," he said throatily, positioning himself between her legs. Before she could nod her assent he plunged into her slick core, eliciting deep moan. She wrapped her legs around him, locking her feet behind his well-muscled back as he thrust in and out of her.

"Vegeta!" She called out breathily. He increased his speed, plowing into her with as much force as he thought she could stand. She bucked her hips vigorously in return, digging the nails of her free hand into his buttock as she savored every inch of him. He could feel her walls tightening around him, growing closer and closer to the edge, and he fought to maintain his control. Before long, her rhythm became chaotic, her moans growing louder and more frequent. She squeezed her eyes closed and gave a final cry.

"Vegeta!" She screamed, shivering in climax. In the throes of her orgasm, one of her heels grazed the tender spot where his tail had once been. With a near roar he gave into his release and fell against her. They lay there for a few moments, fighting to catch their breath, and then he rolled off of her and onto his back. She twisted onto her side, threw an arm across his chest and nestled into the crook of his arm, letting out a contented sigh. He gazed down at her, a slight frown forming on his lips. He was quite sure he would never understand her. Though he had no desire to define their arrangement, for the longest time he was certain that their encounters had sprung up from a mutual need to satiate the unwanted lust that had somehow formed between them, nothing more. But, from time to time, even he couldn't ignore her prolonged glances, the worry that furrowed her brow when he left for battle. He had promised her nothing, shown no affection beyond their passionate entanglements, but there was no mistaking the concern in her eyes when they had stood in their son's room. Somehow, inexplicably, she cared for him. For his part, he had no designs on altering the nature of their relationship. He had no interest beyond the physical. And yet… Tonight had been different. He hadn't sought her out to relieve his unbidden arousal, but instead had felt a true need for her touch, had desired the soothing effect it had upon him. Now, as she lay against him, he felt a strange calm, one he had not been able to achieve in the days following the Cell games. He cursed himself silently for these thoughts, disgusted by the very notion that he, prince of all Saiyans, could _feel_ for this Earth woman in any way. He was about to extricate himself from her hold when she shifted and began mumbling.

"Please," she said almost drunkenly, "Don't leave us again Vegeta." He opened his mouth to respond but stopped when he realized she was asleep and that her mutterings were likely in response to a dream.

 _Don't leave us again._

It occurred to him then that, as mother of his child, she was his to protect as well. Turning his gaze from her, he resolved that he could do that much for her, but that anything further was out of the question. He felt his eyelids begin to droop and let sleep begin to overtake him. Without thinking, he curled the arm trapped beneath the woman around her waist and drew her closer, drifting off into the first peaceful rest he had found in some time.


	2. Low Blow

Thank you all so much for your interest and kind reviews! I hope you enjoy this next bit!

Bulma shuffled through the schematics scattered across the desk before her, making the occasional note with a quickly dulling pencil. Normally she would have had no trouble working on multiple projects at a time, but today she was struggling to keep her mind fixed on any one task at all. What should have been a brief review of a few potential capsule improvements and upcoming product releases had turned into hours worth of distracted revisions and tweaking. Really, she only had herself to blame.

It had been two days since she and Vegeta had spent the night together and the emotions that passionate night had given rise to still weighed heavily on her mind. That following morning she had been unsurprised and almost relieved to find herself alone in his bed. It wasn't that she would have minded waking in the Saiyans taut, muscular arms; on the contrary that was a large part of what burdened her, and she last thing she wanted was for him to see the distress in her eyes as they fluttered open. Laying there, naked and tangled in the sheets, she had come to the stark realization that she had been lying to herself for a long time. It had been easy before when they were both so occupied with Gero's androids and Cell, not to mention all the time that Trunks' care had taken up in those first few month. But now that the danger had passed and she had fallen into an easy routine with her son, her mind was nowhere near as occupied and it had become harder to brush aside her thoughts of what, if anything, lay between them. That night, as they had desperately ravaged each other, it was as though a final barrier had broken down within her and she was no longer able to deny what she had always known: she had completely fallen for Vegeta. Even now, days later, it made her eyebrows knit together with worry. Resting her head in her hand, she looked up from her work and glanced aimlessly about the small office she kept beside one of their many laboratories. If all she wanted was something physical, there would be no trouble at all. The mere thought of what he had done to her that night reddened her cheeks and brought an involuntary smile to her lips. But she knew that she would never be truly satisfied with such an arrangement. Which in turn begged the question: what could she do to get through to someone like Vegeta? Nothing readily came to mind, but giving up entirely wasn't an option either; her emotions and intellect simply wouldn't allow her to back down so easily.

Realizing any actual work was a lost cause, she stacked the abandoned schematics neatly, exited the office and headed up to the house. When she reached the living room, she found her mother alone on the couch, clutching a box of tissues as she watched one of her soap operas on the large T.V. before her.  
"Hey mom," Bulma said, leaning against the back of the sofa.  
"Oh! Hi sweetie!" Her mother replied, eyes still fixed on the screen, "You wouldn't believe what Rodrigo just found out about Vera! Oh it's so sad!"  
"Where's Trunks?"  
"He's outside playing with Vegeta. The two of them are so cute together!"  
"Playing?"  
"Yeah, in the backyard." Unable to take her words at face value, Bulma turned from her mother, walked through the kitchen and out the it's rear entrance. Once outside, she rounded the far corner of the house and found Vegeta standing in the open field some distance away, their son clutched in a gentle but firm hold in the crook of his left arm. He walked the length of the yard to the tree he often rested under and set his son down at its roots. He then returned to where she had first seen him and gestured at the child stiffly. Scrunching his face up determinedly, Trunks wobbled to his feet and began toddling over to him. It had only been a few weeks since she and her parents had seen him stand on his own and already he appeared more stable and confident in his movements. She had been skeptical about finding her son playing with his father, but she never could have imagined she would stumble upon the Saiyan teaching the boy to walk.  
She suppressed a delighted giggle as Trunks reached his father and beamed up at him triumphantly. She felt a faint fluttering in her heart as Vegeta lifted the boy and held him at arm's length, giving him a satisfied nod. The sensation was immediately replaced by one of shock and protective rage as she watch the man launch her son up into the air and out of sight.

"Trunks!" she screamed, running out on the field.  
"Stop your shrieking woman," He replied as she reached him, eyes focused upward, "He is in no danger."  
"No danger?" She exclaimed, balling her fists at her sides, "I can't even see him! You just tossed our son into the stratosphere!"  
"Hardly. And anyway, he has the blood of a Saiyan elite running through his veins. There's a good chance his instincts have kicked in and he's already flying on his own."  
"And if they haven't?"  
"Then we continue to focus on that part of his training until they do."  
"Training? Are you serious? He's barely a year old!"  
"If he can walk he can train."  
"Listen up you jerk! If anything happens to our son I swear-" She was interrupted by a distant cry that grew closer and closer by the second. Suddenly her son appeared above their heads, plummeting towards them at a frightening speed. Bulma opened her mouth to scream just as the infant landed in his father's arms, squealing delightedly. Vegeta turned to her with a triumphant smirk. Scowling, Bulma snatched Trunks away from him and began searching for any signs of injury.

"For a so-called genius you've acted rather foolishly," Vegeta said gruffly, "As I told you, the boy is fine."

"Really?" Bulma shot back, looking up from her careful examination of her son, "I'm the fool? Because I think it's pretty dumb to throw a baby in the air and hope he can fly!"

"You're just coddling the boy."

"And I suppose you consider not wanting him to fall to his death coddling? I guess that would make sense, coming from the same guy who didn't even care about this Trunks almost getting blown to bits until someone killed the other one! " As soon as the words left her mouth Bulma knew she had gone too far. The Saiyan prince's lip curled into a snarl and he stalked away from her without another word. Picking up on his parents' foul temperaments, Trunks began to wail and squirm in his mother's arms. She knew all too well that seeing his son die had had a powerful effect on him, had left him feeling raw and even a little guilty. And what had she done? Kicked him when he was down.

"Bulma!" Her mother's voice called from behind her, "ChiChi's on the phone! It sounds important!"

She stared after Vegeta a moment longer, watching him lift into the air disappear before turning away.

"Way to go genius," she mumbled to herself.

Vegeta landed roughly atop the tallest plateau of a barren plain. He had been here many times before in his attempts to ascend beyond his limits and become a Super Saiyan. Now all he sought was a means to quell the tempestuous rage churning inside of him. He paced around the rocky outcropping's edge with his fists clenched, fingernails biting into the skin of his palms.

Who did that Earth woman think she was? He had told her he would remain on the planet, at her compound, to raise his son. Yet he hadn't even spent an hour with the boy before she had rushed out and snatched the child away, disrupting what had barely constituted the beginning of his training. He could see it as clearly as if she were standing before him, her eyes flashing angrily, challenging him as though she were an equal. At first he had only been mildly irked, and something not unlike admiration for her fiery, if not misplaced, bravado had crept into his awareness. He had even been able to find a measure of amusement in the confrontation when the boy had landed safely in his arms, driving home just how wrong she was about the young half-Saiyan's durability. But then she had struck out at his weak point, one the elder Trunks and the weakling had so carelessly revealed in their detailing of his reckless assault on Cell. In that moment, her feeble jabs had culminated in a fierce coup de gras that he hadn't thought her capable of; had he not chosen to leave when he did, portions of Capsule Corp may have been reduced to rubble.

And what of that choice? Why hadn't he rained down destruction upon the woman and her home? How was it that since the beginning of their interactions he had allowed her to speak to him in such a manner? It certainly wasn't that he felt anything for or toward her. No, he reasoned that she was only alive and walking about because there would be nothing gained, no glory from snuffing out the life of such a fragile and insignificant creature; that and the fact that he had taken her into his protection as mother of his child. Really, she owed him a great debt for his clemency. That said, he needed a plan going forward.

He stopped his agitated pacing and closed his eyes, crossing his arms as he began to formulate a strategy to combat her interference. He supposed he would have to treat it like any other battle, giving no quarter and showing no mercy in their verbal sparring. Should she attempt to call his methods of training his son, or anything else for that matter, into question, he would swiftly remind her of her place. And just as in times of war, there would be no fraternization with the enemy. Their physical encounters would cease indefinitely, even if she pleaded. He smirked as he settled on his resolution. Her savagery would be met in kind with his own. Kicking off of the towering flatland, he launched himself into the air and sped back toward the Capsule Corp grounds. He landed in the same yard he had departed earlier and was greeted by the woman's nuisance of a mother, who sat at a small table out on the lawn sipping tea.

"Hey Vegeta!" she squeaked, "Bulma went off with Trunks to see ChiChi but I'm sure she'll be back soon!" So the woman had also retreated following their heated exchange. It brought him a small measure of satisfaction knowing he hadn't been the only in need of time to regroup.

"I wonder what ChiChi wanted," Mrs. Briefs continued, "She sounded upset… Oh my, I forgot my manners! Would you like some tea?"

Vegeta ignored her attempt at small talk and headed to the Gravity Room. After a few hours of rigorous training he shut down the machine and went to his room to clean up. By the time he had showered and changed the woman had still not returned. He lay back on his bed, hands laced behind his head. He could still smell her on the pillow beside him, the provocative essence hanging just beneath the scent of fresh linens. With a grunt he tossed the offending cushion to the floor; he would not be so easily swayed from his course.

He heard a door open and shut gently beneath him, and then a soft but hurried approach of footsteps on the stairs.  
"Sorry Trunks," he heard her whisper as she passed his closed door, "Mommy didn't mean to keep you up for so long. Let's get you down for a nap sleepy boy." Vegeta remained still, listening closely as she presumably laid the child down in his crib. After a few moments, her footfalls approached once more and paused just outside of his room. His gaze shifted to the door as he waited for a hesitant knock or the sound of her voice, but neither came. Instead, he heard her pad away from him and back down the stairs. He rolled his eyes back up to the ceiling with a short, forceful exhale. Just as well that she hadn't attempted to disturb him. Perhaps she was learning her place after all.

Suddenly his stomach growled thunderously. Between this morning's confrontation and his training, he had hardly eaten anything all day. He got up just as his stomach gave another voracious rumble, exited his room and made his way down the stairs. When he reached the lower landing, he found the woman lying across the living room couch, absentmindedly flipping through a brightly colored magazine. He breezed past her wordlessly and, upon entering the kitchen, immediately began rummaging through the refrigerator. The large ice-chest was nearly empty, only a few of the infant's bottles and a half full container of juice remaining. With a dissatisfied grumble he grabbed the juice, downed the rest of it in one gulp and slammed the refrigerator door shut.

"Try slamming it harder," the woman called out, "It's not like there's a sleeping baby upstairs." He pressed his lips into a thin line and remained silent, instead choosing to toss the now empty container aside and explore the room's various shelves and cabinets for sustenance. He was having little luck finding anything worthwhile when he heard her step into the room.

"Our grocery order is due in tomorrow," she said, leaning against the refrigerator, "If you want, I could order some pizzas. What do you think? Will 3 dozen be enough for you?" He remained silent, refusing to give in to her feeble attempt at friendly discourse.  
"Nothing to say huh?" she asked, "I guess I deserve that. Vegeta, I… I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have said what I said, no matter how upset I was. I overreacted and I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. ChiChi and I talked-"

"Hurt my feelings?" he said wryly, "As if your pathetic insults could harm someone like me. I'd just had enough of your screeching. And as for Kakarot's widow, you would do well to keep my affairs out of your tea-time gossip."

"Will you knock it off with the macho act tough guy? I'm trying to apologize."  
"And I'm telling you it's unnecessary because your words meant nothing." He heard her sigh and turned to face her triumphantly.  
"Look Vegeta," she said, "I can't stop you from training our son, but could you at least not start off so rough? For his and my sake?"

"Tch. I will train him in a manner befitting his race and heritage. Nothing less."

"Alright then, how about we make a deal? I won't get involved in Trunks' training and in return you'll do something for me."  
"Trying to negotiate eh? I don't think so. As I said, I will train the boy. Period. You have nothing left to bargain with."  
"Oh no?" She pushed away from the refrigerator and walked over to him. Standing on her tiptoes, she leaned into him and brought her mouth to his ear.  
"I'm told I can be very persuasive," she said in a near whisper, hot breath tickling his neck. He felt her left hand wrap around his back and begin to creep toward the base of his spine, her right hand resting delicately on his chest. He let out a short chuckle and grabbed her wrist, drawing a surprised gasp from her as she rocked back onto her heels. He pulled her wandering hands off of him and slid past her toward the living room.

"You'll have to do better than that," he warned confidently, "I won't be giving into your vulgar distractions. I hope those pizzas get here quickly. My patience for your antics does not improve with hunger." With that he proceeded back to his room, leaving her to stare after him, dumbstruck.


	3. Cold War Diplomacy

Vegeta stood in the open field that surrounded the Briefs' compound, watching his son a short distance away. Several weeks had passed uneventfully at Capsule Corp. In these intervening days, Trunks was able to make large strides in his rudimentary training. Now, under his father's vigilant gaze, he ran across the back yard on tiny, steady feet. Once he had picked up a fair amount of speed, he jumped into the air, hovering briefly before toppling back to the ground. The child's lip quivered for a moment, and he seemed on the verge of tears until he glanced over to the elder Saiyan. With a loud sniff, Trunks stood up and walked over to Vegeta, eyeing him expectantly. The man returned his son's look with an appraising one of his own, before nodding and beginning his walk back to the house. The young half-Saiyan followed closely behind, beaming at the scant sign of approval he had received and doing his best to keep up with Vegeta's longer strides. Mrs. Briefs met them at the door, eyes nearly squeezed shut as her usual smile spread across her face. Sometimes Vegeta wondered how the woman could even see.

"There's my handsome grandson!" she cried gleefully, "I was just coming to get you for lunch! I bet you're hungry after playtime with daddy!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes, not bothering to remind her that he was training a future warrior not frolicking about uselessly like some pathetic fool.  
"Will you be joining us Vegeta?" Mrs. Briefs asked brightly, "I made tons of goodies for you boys."

"I must see to my own training first," he said dismissively, walking past her and into the house.

"Ok! Well it'll be waiting for you! Maybe Bulma will be back when you're done and you can eat together! Wouldn't that be cute?" Vegeta scoffed as he made his way to the gravity chamber. Since their conversation in the kitchen, the woman had been oddly… Cooperative. He had expected her to lash out and attempt to rein him in in her usual loudmouth way, but instead she had remained silent on most matters. His training with Trunks had resumed without a single protest, and her attempts to seduce him into compromise had ceased with his initial forceful assertion against such behavior. In place of any combative response, for reasons he couldn't be bothered to understand, she had chosen to spend a great deal of her time assisting Kakarot's widow as she prepared to whelp what was sure to be another low-class half-breed. For the most part, he was satisfied with his easy victory and the peace it had brought him; no screeching, no distractions, just as he had wanted it. Yet, something about all of it didn't completely sit right with him. There was a disquietingly familiar feeling, a nagging sense that the battle, though seemingly quelled, was far from finished. After all, in the short time that he had known her, she had only ever ceased in her various forms of pestering and fussing when she lapsed into silences that she believed, for some inane reason, would punish him. As if a moment of respite from her shrieking could be anything but welcome. And even then, these periods of quietude were short lived. This time, she appeared to truly take his new stance in stride, remaining calm and pleasant in their brief exchanges. Surely she was up to something.

He frowned as he came to the gravity room. Even in her absence she managed to irritate him. With a sharp shake of his head, he entered the chamber and worked to shift his focus elsewhere.

Bulma's car sped into the Briefs' driveway, coming to a stop a few feet away from the main building's entrance. She hopped out of the vehicle, a prototype of the new line of Capsule Corp models they would be releasing later in the year, and sealed it back in its capsule. She smiled to herself as she walked into the house, having thoroughly enjoyed the morning she had passed with her old friend. Initially, she had wanted to bring a Capsule Corp doctor to the Son's home for a house call, but ChiChi had insisted on a no frills obstetrician in the city. In accordance with these wishes, the two women had spent the morning downtown at the physician's modest office, where ChiChi and her unborn child had received a clean bill of health and several prescriptions that Bulma filled herself, in spite of the widow's protests. Then, before returning home to an assuredly anxious Gohan, they had spent a few hours shopping for the first of many baby related purchases. Bulma had been happy to see her friend coping well in spite of her loss, and she suspected that the distraction of her unexpected pregnancy was doing her good. She herself had found a great deal of comfort in filling her mind with various preparations when faced with her own child's unplanned conception.

Bulma arrived in the living room, where her father sat reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette on the couch. Beside the oversized loveseat, Bunny kneeled on the floor, tickling a boisterous Trunks amidst a scattering of toys.

'Ma!" he cried when he saw her, rising quickly and knocking Bunny over as he ran for his mother.

"Trunks!" Bulma admonished gently, scooping the boy into her arms, "Be careful! You don't wanna hurt Grandma!"  
"Gwmma!" He cried, glancing back at the toppled older woman.  
"It's fine dear," her mother said with a laugh as she came to her feet.

"He's getting rather strong isn't he?" Dr. Briefs mused, turning to another page of his paper.  
"He sure is!" Bulma agreed, giving her son a squeeze. The boy giggled and wrapped his arms around his mother's neck, giving her an impressively tight squeeze of his own.  
"Are you hungry dear?" Bunny asked, taking a seat on the couch next to her husband, "There's tons of food in the kitchen. Unless you wanna wait for Vegeta to finish training and join you."

"Now mother, you know how Vegeta is," Dr Briefs cautioned, "If Bulma waits on him there's a good chance she'll starve before he comes out of that room."

"I'm gonna have to agree with dad on that one mom," Bulma said with a smile, "Come on Trunks! Help mommy find something to eat." With a firm nod reminiscent of his father's stiff gesturing, Trunks leapt from his mother's arms and headed toward the kitchen. Bulma followed him slowly, trying not to let the surprise show too much on her face. It was amazing how far he had come in so little time. A month ago he was barely able to get around on his own and now he was walking with ease. Lately, it was all she could do to make sure he didn't escape his crib or the lenient eyes of her parents when she left him in their charge. If he started flying, she wasn't sure what she would do.

When she entered the kitchen she found her son standing at its center, pointing toward several full platters on the counter.

"Foo!" he exclaimed.

"Thanks Trunks!" Bulma replied, stooping to kiss his forehead before walking to the counter to take stock of her options. After a few moments deliberation, she grabbed a plate and loaded it with a few halved sandwiches.

"Da!" she heard the child cry behind her. Bulma took a deep breath and relaxed her expression into one of neutrality, keeping her eyes forward. As Vegeta sidled up to her, she turned on her heel and left the room without a word.  
"Aren't you going to eat together?" her mother asked as she passed through the living room.

"No," Bulma said with a shrug, "I think I'm gonna have lunch on the balcony."  
"Ok dear!"

Bulma climbed the stairs to the house's upper levels and went out onto the small dining terrace. She sat down at the round metal table at its railed edge and glanced out at the cloudless sky, absentmindedly picking up a sandwich and biting down on its corner.

When Vegeta had left her in the kitchen weeks ago, she had been momentarily stunned. She had expected silence or bitter insults, nearly anything but his cool rejection. Of all the things she had envisioned, the Saiyan Prince cutting her off physically hadn't been one of them.

Her first instinct had been to chase after him and argue against not only his refusal to even listen to what she wished to say, but to remind him that she was far from someone he could resist. But then a thought had occurred to her: if she wanted to have her way, she would have to play by his rules, beat him at his own game. So she had relented, giving him his space, keeping their interactions brief but civil, and allowing him to spend time training their son. It hadn't been terribly difficult, particularly once she admitted to herself that she truly had overreacted and that Vegeta would never hurt her son as she had feared. It hadn't shown at first, but after about a week she could tell that her apparent compliance made him uneasy; she had counted on that much. Between the two of them the absence of bickering could be oddly unnerving. She calculated that it was only a matter of time before he gave in and came to her demanding to know what she was plotting, at which point she would find an opportunity to enter into the negotiations he had so hastily refused, his discomfort the bargaining chip she had lacked in their initial confrontation. And if he needed any extra incentive, she could always shut down the Gravity Machine, though she hoped it wouldn't come to that.

She smiled faintly at the thought of him bursting into her office, scowling and insisting she explain herself. Though he could be extremely pig-headed, his intensity was also part of what attracted her. A vision of the Saiyan taking hold of her roughly, clearing her desk with a swipe of his sinewy arm, and laying her down on the empty workspace flashed across her mind. Feeling a slow heat rising in her lower abdomen, she quickly brushed the fantasy away, knowing full well that nothing that dramatic was likely to happen when he finally decided to hear her out. Although, it wasn't unheard of for their arguments to devolve into something sexual. If she remembered correctly, such an occasion had led to the birth of their son.

"Bulma!" her father's voice called, breaking through her less than pure thoughts, "There's a courier here for you! He needs your signature!"  
"Probably the designs from our fashion division," she called back, "Be right down!" She got up from the table, hurried into the house, and descended the stairs, coming to the door just a little out of breath.

"Delivery for Ms. Bulma Briefs?" the young man asked

"That's me!" she sighed, fighting against her rapid breathing. The courier smiled and handed her a thin tablet to sign. As she took hold of the device, she noticed his eyes wandering away from her face and down her body.

"Ahem?" she said, stylus poised over the screen, a look of annoyance clouding her features. The man's eyes snapped back to hers, his cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

"Sorry ma'am!" he said quickly.

"Just learn some manners ok?" She said, signing the pad's face and handing it back to him. "And don't call me ma'am. As I'm sure you noticed I'm not old enough for that yet." The courier opened his mouth to respond when Vegeta appeared between them.

"On your way human," he growled

"Hey dude, chill out," the man said, holdings his hands up defensively.  
"You have five seconds to disappear or I'll crush your bones to a fine powder."

"Wha-"  
"Five…" The man's eyes widened and he ran for his motorized scooter. He jumped onto the small vehicle and sped away as fast as it would go.

"Vegeta!" Bulma began. He whirled to face her, a dangerous expression darkening his countenance.

"What's your game woman?" he spat

Vegeta stared down at the Earth woman, seething quietly, Earlier, sitting in the kitchen and shoveling handfuls of food into his mouth, his son watching him in awe, he had barely registered the doorbell or the brief conversations that followed. People were always coming and going and the petty concerns of these transient humans were of little importance to him. When the woman came to the front door, only a few feet from the kitchen's entryway, he had continued eating in silence for a few moments more. And then he had smelled it.

At first, he had simply written it off, attributing the odor to the human male. It was not uncommon for these Earth men to desire her, to display their weakness shamelessly. But there was no mistaking the potent scent of the woman's own arousal. He had paused, crumbs tumbling from his lips, and it had felt as though a cord had been struck within him. This pathetic human male's desire was nothing, but for her to lust after him, to deem this insect just as worthy of her body a Saiyan elite, after he had assented to her physically, after she had birthed his child and he had taken her into his protection… It insulted his honor. With that final thought he had jumped up, inserted himself between the two humans, and driven the offending male off.

"Well? he asked venomously

"What game?" she returned, frowning in confusion.

"Has this been your plan all along? To feign defeat and then assault my pride by debasing yourself with that… that beta male?"

"Hold on, debasing myself? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, I could smell it!"

"Smell wh-" the woman paused, a look of realization spreading across her face.

"So you don't deny it then?" he asked, looking down his nose at her. She sighed, grabbed Vegeta's arm and pulled him back into the house.  
"Dad," she called out, "I need you to watch Trunks for a sec!"  
"Of course sweetheart!" he replied from another room. Bulma began to move toward the stairway that led to the laboratories, her office, and the gravity room, still clutching the Saiyan's arm.

"Unhand me woman," Vegeta growled, yanking away from her grasp.  
"If you want answers, you're going to have to wait until we're out of earshot of my parents and our son!" she shot back, continuing down the steps. Clenching his fists, Vegeta followed her down into the lower levels and into the gravity chamber. Once inside, she turned to face him, leaning against the control panel.

"I am at the limits of my patience woman," he warned.

"OK," she said evenly, "What you sm-noticed, had nothing to do with that guy."  
"Do not attempt to deceive me. My nose is very sensitive."  
"Apparently. But I swear, that I want nothing to do with that creep."

"Then explain."  
"I… I was up on the balcony eating lunch and-"  
"Out with it already!"

"I was thinking about you, you dweeb! About… Us." She said this last word quietly and looked away from him with a frown. They stood in silence, Vegeta scrutinizing her carefully. Everything about her was complicated. He had thought the were waging a silent war. Perhaps they still were.

"Is this another of your tricks?" he asked finally.

"I wish it was," she said, laughing humorlessly, "Especially since, by the looks of it, I almost had you." Vegeta raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Admit it," she said with a faint smile, "Before that courrier showed up, you were this close to giving up on your no negotiations plan and hearing me out." She held up her finger and thumb to his face in a pinching gesture.

"I knew you were up to something!"  
"What? You thought I was just gonna roll over and take it?"

"Considering your thoughts as of late, I'd say that's exactly what you would do." He smirked at her deviously.

"Hmph," she huffed, "Not like it would matter to you anyway, your highness. Remember? You're not giving in to my 'vulgar distractions' anymore. Maybe I'll go find that courrier after all. At least he was interested." She walked past him and to the exit, nose in the air. As the woman was raising her right hand to the door controls, he shot over to her, grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face him once more. He grabbed her other wrist and pinned both of her arms to the wall.

"Let me make something clear woman," he growled, his face inches from hers, "I am the Prince of all Saiyans and I will not share. Do not toy with me."

"Hmmm," she replied, tilting her head, "Sounds like a lot of talk, Prince, and not much a-" He closed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his own. She returned the kiss in earnest, squirming against his grasp in an effort to wrap her arms around him and press her body closer to his. He held her fast, enjoying his control over her almost as much as the taste and feel of her mouth. As her struggling continued, he stretched her arms above her head, bringing her her wrists together, and clasping them with one hand, freeing up the other to hike up the hem of her short dress and deftly slide beneath it. His fingers grazed past her public bone and came to rest on her left breast, his rough hands tenderly kneading her soft flesh. She broke their kiss with a deep groan.

"I want you inside of me," she demanded throatily, "Now." All at once he released her wrists and lowered his hand to the waistband of her lacy underwear, yanking them down her hips. She wiggled the rest of the way out and kicked them away while he stripped off the tank top and sweatpants he had trained in. Just as she finished pulling her dress over her head, he parted her legs with his knee and cupped her backside with one hand, hoisting her up against the wall. Leveling her eyes at him, she rested one arm on his shoulder, the other trailing languidly along the scarred muscles of his chest and abdomen as she crossed her legs behind his back. Bracing his other hand beside her head, he entered her with a sharp forward thrust. She cried out pleasureably as they buffeted against one another, his solid, velvety member sliding in and out of the silken heart of her arousal with mounting speed. Before long, she threw her head back against the door, crying out his name when her orgasm overtook her and caused her to spasm uncontrollably around him. He drove into her a final time as he came to his own climax, letting out a loud moan that echoed through the chamber.

Still buried deep within her, he lowered himself to the ground and laid back on the cool metal floor, pulling her on top of him. She nuzzled against his neck, fingers of one hand twining in his hair.

"Your conditions," he began against his better judgement, absentmindedly resting his hand on the small of her back, "What were they?" She glanced up at him, surprised.  
"I-I mean," she stammered, "They weren't conditions, more like suggestions. Really just one actually."

"And that would be?"

"I thought it would be nice if we spent more time together."  
"Well that was rather simple. If I had known this was all-"

"No! Not like this. I mean, like.. like a date."

"A what?"

"Like, an evening out. Together."  
"For what?"

"For food or a movie. Something like that."

"Do you not have all of theses things here? Why go anywhere else?"

"It's just what people do. Couples anyway."

"Like you and that weakling?"

"Never mind, forget I said anything." She started to look away when he caught her by the chin as gently as he could manage, recapturing her attention.

"Say I were to participate in this confounding human custom," he reasoned, "Would you cease your plotting and give up your plans of interference?"

"Can we forget about the whole 'no vulgar distractions' part?"

"I think we can safely assume we are past that."

"Can you stop throwing our baby thousands of miles into the air?"

"At this rate he'll be flying on his own soon anyway."

"Great." She rolled her eyes and laid her head back down on his chest.

"So? Have we come to terms?" He asked.

"One date," she confirmed, "and I reserve the right to more if this works out."

"And I reserve the right to never do it again once it proves to be utter foolishness."

She sat up in response, inner muscles flexing tightly against his appendage.

"You don't seem to mind my Earth foolishness too much," she purred.

With an imperceptible speed he rolled on top of her and pinned her wrists once more. As they began their carnal sparring with renewed vigor, Vegeta couldn't help but wonder what he had gotten himself into.


	4. Campaign Abroad

Thank you all so much for following and for your kind reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was a blast to write!

Bulma stood in front of her bathroom mirror, putting the finishing touches on her makeup and trying to take deep, slow breaths. To say she was nervous would be an enormous understatement. When he had said yes the week before, Bulma had realized that she had never expected him to agree to an actual date. In her mind, she had pictured bargaining him down to sharing a meal together or watching a movie at the house. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought her initial ask would be accepted. Now, all she could think of were the thousands of ways tonight could go wrong. Any other first date wouldn't have rattled her this much, but the stakes were too high for her take this one so lightly. This was her chance to find out if she and the Saiyan warrior could be anything more than occasional sex partners, to decide once and for all if she had pinned her heart to a foolish fantasy.

As she placed her tube of lipstick in the small purse at her side, a loud booming knock sounded at the door.

"Woman!" Vegeta called, "What's taking so long? Am I going to starve to death before you've finished your preparations?" Bulma rolled her eyes, turned from the mirror and opened the door, revealing the annoyed prince posed in his usual stance, his arms crossed over the taut muscles of his chest. She took in the irritated man slowly, once again surprised. Rather than the worn Saiyan armor she had expected, he had chosen to dress in a dark longsleeve shirt and belted tan pants, an outfit not unlike the one he had worn the day of Trunks' departure.

"You look… nice." Bulma said with a hesitant smile.

"And you look like you're still not ready at all," he countered incredulously, "Where is the rest of your clothing?"

"Rest of it?" She glanced down at the short, strapless black dress she had decided on, "I mean, I still need to put on some shoes but-"  
"Why wear clothes at all?" he continued, "I can practically see… Well, everything!"

"Only if the date goes well bud." Somehow, arguing with him had eased her fraying nerves better than any breathing exercises could. She walked passed him and opened her sizeable closet. Slipping into a matching pair of heels, she examined herself one final time in the mirror hanging on the walk-in's back wall and then made her way to the hallway, pausing briefly at the bedroom door.

"Well?" she said over her shoulder, "Are you coming or what?" Vegeta sighed loudly and followed her out of the room.

"I can't imagine this is going to be worth my time," she heard him grumble as the walked down the stairs.

"Can't you just relax?" she asked once they reached the front door, "Seriously, try having a little fun for a change."

"This evening promises to be just about as fun as a hole in my chest." Bulma stepped out onto the Brief's driveway, shaking her head, and pulled a capsule from her bag. When the smoke cleared, revealing a sporty red hovercar, Bulma hopped into the vehicle and started the engine. Vegeta eyed the convertible suspiciously, his feet rooted to the paved walkway just beside it.

"Come on!" Bulma urged, "Or we're going to be late!"  
"I don't see what we need this contraption for in the first place," he said warily, "I can get us there in half the time if we just fly."

"I don't know if you noticed, but aside from yours truly, people around here aren't used to seeing guys just flying around everywhere. I'd rather not draw any more attention than we have to."  
"Ridiculous. Kakarot and his idiot friends fly everywhere."

"Just get in the car… Please?" Vegeta set his jaw and jumped into the seat beside her.

"Thank you," she said as the car lifted into the air, "Like I said, we don't need anything else that could bring out those vultures."

"What are you talking about?" he said irritably.

"People with cameras. Sometimes they follow me around when I go out. You know, because of who my family is. I'm hoping that they'll leave us alone tonight."  
"I can make certain that they won't be a problem." Bulma glanced over and saw the wicked smirk forming at the corners of his mouth.

"No," she said firmly, "The last thing we need is you blowing up people. And anyway, I booked the whole restaurant, so it should be just us and the staff. No problems."  
"I should hope not." They rode in silence the rest of the way, eventually coming to an empty bistro with large glass windows and an awning at its front. Bulma parked the car at the curb and, once she and Vegeta had stepped out, sealed it back into its capsule. Upon entering the restaurant, they were immediately greeted by an overly cheerful, mustachioed maitre'd.

"Ms. Briefs!" he said brightly, "we are so pleased that you have chosen our humble establishment for your private dining this evening."

"Thank you," she replied with a grin of her own, "I really appreciate you doing this for us on such short notice."

"Anything for the Capsule Corp heiress! Follow me." He turned and led them to a small cloth covered table at the back of the room.

"Can I start you off with anything to drink?" the man asked as they sat down.

"When do we eat?" Vegeta responded impatiently, "I was told there would be food."

"If you look at your menu I can-"

"Better just bring him one of everything," Bulma interrupted, "That'll be way easier."

"Are you certain Ms. Briefs?" the maitre'd asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yep! Fast as you can please!" The man nodded haltingly and rushed away from them.

"That buffoon better hurry up. His life may depend upon it," Vegeta said sternly.

"I'm sure the food'll be out soon," she assured him, "In the meantime, how about-"

"Good evening!" a female voice cut in. Bulma looked up and found a bubbly dark haired waitress by her shoulder.

"Can I get you anything to drink ma'am?" she inquired with a flash of her teeth.

"Whatever red you recommend, maybe a-"

"And you sir?" Bulma frowned at the interruption, an expression that deepened as she noticed how the girl was staring at Vegeta.  
"I don't care!" Vegeta said dismissively, "Just bring something before I lose my patience."

"Of course sir," the waitress said knowingly, "Don't worry, I'll bring you something I know you'll like." She winked at him and walked toward the double doors of the kitchen across the room, hips swaying. Bulma pursed her lips and turned back to her reluctant date.

"As I was saying," she continued, "While we wait, we can talk."

"About?" he said, resting his head on one hand and tapping the other impatiently against the surface of the table.

"Anything. Whatever you want." Vegeta stared back at her silently, raising an eyebrow.

"How about," she offered, "your training? How's that going?"

"It is simply to keep my body ready. I refuse to sit around like the rest of your weakling friends."

"Well I mean, they did train for three years. Maybe a little break couldn't hurt."

"Hmph. They can do as they like. I won't let this planet's peace-times soften me ."

"Of all the things I could ever call you, soft definitely isn't one of them." Bulma laughed, and she could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile hovering about the Saiyan's lips.

"Here we are!" the waitress exclaimed as she returned. She set the heiress' glass down on the table heavily, its contents nearly sloshing out onto the tablecloth and her dress. Before Bulma could open her mouth in protest, the girl had already turned her attentions to Vegeta.

"This is our finest vintage sir," she said, leaning toward him as she placed his glass and a basket of bread down gently before him, "Also, I've taken it upon myself to bring you some fresh rolls from the kitchen. Please let me know if you need anything else." Bulma's nostrils flared as the waitress visibly fluttered her eyes at him.

"About time," Vegeta said, grabbing several rolls, completely oblivious to the girl's flirtations, "The rest of my meal had better be on its way."

"I'll check on it for you right away sir!" she chirped, offering him another warm smile before flitting away from the table, leaving Bulma to scowl at her back. Just as the waitress disappeared into the kitchen, a waiter walked out of it carrying a large covered tray. Bulma began to sigh with relief but stopped short as the man set the tray down at an empty table a few feet away from them.

"Um, excuse me!" she called out, "Over here!" The man turned toward her, a tiny camera clutched in his fists.

"Care to comment on who this mysterious stranger is?" the photographer asked as he snapped the first picture, "Is he the father of your child or is this yet another new boyfriend? What happened with you and Yamcha?"

Vegeta gritted his teeth angrily, but before he could even move to stand, Bulma stalked over to the man and smacked the camera out of his hands.

"Hey!" he cried angrily

"How dare you!" she shouted back, "I'm trying to have a nice evening and here you are ruining it for some stupid pictures! You're lucky I didn't smack you! As a matter of fact, I still might!"

Vegeta chuckled silently and took a sip of his wine, keeping his eyes focused on the confrontation before him. He hadn't known what to expect when he agreed to this date idea of hers and thus far the evening had been, for the most part, frustrating and dull. Between the lack of almost any kind of sustenance and the bizarre attentions of the servant woman, he had had just about enough of this endeavor. However, this new turn of events was a welcome change of the tide.

While Bulma continued to berate the photographer the waitress rushed through the double doors, her sunny disposition replaced with a look of concern. She came to stand beside the Saiyan, leaning even closer than before.

"Is everything alright sir?" she queried breathily, "Is this man disturbing you? If you'd like I can-"

"Back off you bimbo!" Bulma exclaimed, still facing the startled camera man, "If you're not bringing food, he isn't interested!" Slightly, taken aback, the waitress glanced at Vegeta, as if looking for some form of guidance or apology.

"You heard her!" Vegeta said with another short laugh, "On your way!" The girl turned beet red and ran back into the kitchen.

"You have until the count of three to get out of here," Bulma continued, holding her fingers up to the photographer's face, "After that, you're camera's not the only thing that's gonna end up broken."

Suddenly, several lights flashed in her periphery. As Bulma turned toward the front of the restaurant, Vegeta jumped to his feet, taking a wide stance.

"Great," she mumbled. Photographers had swarmed the bistro's wide picture windows, crowding and shoving one another as they fought to get a good shot of the scene before them. Vegeta was beginning to form a blindingly bright ki blast in one hand when Bulma let out a frustrated groan, turned away from the phony waiter, and laid a hand on his arm. He threw her a sideways glance and reluctantly lowered his hand, allowing the energy to fade.

"Looks like we're leaving," she said, bending over to pick up her bag. Just as she took hold of her purse, she heard the faint click of a camera behind her. She whirled around just in time to see the photographer tuck his camera safely away, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Think I may have gotten a little extra on that last shot, if you know what I mean," he said, backing away from her slowly, "Thanks for the picture Ms-" Vegeta rushed the man, grabbing him by the throat and snatching the camera from his pocket. He clenched his fist tightly, crushing the device to pieces.

"Vegeta!" Bulma cried behind him, "Put him down and let's go!"

"With pleasure," he returned roughly. With that, he tossed the man the length of the restaurant and through the window, bowling over several other photographers who had pressed against the thin pane of glass. He snatched up the stunned woman and shot through the shattered opening he had created, zipping past the confused men and women who had sought to hound them. He flew aimlessly for a few miles before setting down on a scrubby outcropping at the city's outskirts. For a moment, the woman continued to cling tightly to his arms, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Did we stop?" she asked, tentatively opening her eyes and relaxing her hold.

"For now," he affirmed, "I suppose you'll want to bring out that ridiculous craft of yours and take us the rest of the way." She didn't respond, instead walking a few feet off and slumping to the ground unceremoniously.

"Huh," Vegeta uttered, leaning against a squat rock formation, "I knew this was a terrible idea. Going out to some ill-prepared mess hall instead of just having your fool of a mother prepare the meal in your own well supplied kitchen. What a waste of time. And those insolent humans with their flashing devices. I could have killed the lot of them in one fell swoop. Not to mention-"

"You're right," Bulma said shakily, cutting off his rant, "It was stupid. What was I thinking?" Vegeta straightened up, caught off guard by the defeated timbre of her voice. He glanced down at her and saw tears welling in her eyes.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he asked, brows furrowing.

"Oh, sorry to confuse you," she replied, voice wobbling dangerously, "But when humans get sad, sometimes water comes out of their eyes and-"  
"I know what crying is!"  
"Good! Now leave me alone so I can do it."

"S-stop it! Do you hear me? Stifle your weeping this instant!" In flagrant defiance of his demands, Bulma began sobbing in earnest, shoulders rocking violently. Vegeta stood behind her, mouth agape, unsure of what to do. He thought of giving in to her request, of leaving her to her insistent blubbering, but something in him wouldn't allow him to turn away. Cursing himself and whatever held him there, he sat down beside her with agitated grunt.

"Why?" he said finally, not bothering to hide his reluctance.

"What?" Bulma sniffed.

"Why… Are you crying?"

"Like you care."  
"Just answer me woman!"

"I have a name remember? Its Bulma!" He balled up his fists and closed his eyes, sighing audibly.

"If you must know, it's because that whole thing was a total disaster, just like you said it would be," she went on, voice hitching at times, "And now we'll never go anywhere again and nothing will ever change."

"Change?" he repeated, "What are you on about?"

"I don't want to just be some distraction to you. I'm a huge idiot and I care about you, you big jerk. . And all I am to you is-is… Some kind of gorgeous plaything!" Vegeta unclenched his fists and stared at her for a few beats before looking away and off into the distance. He sucked in a deep breath before he began to speak, knowing he was likely to regret what he planned to say next.

"Listen closely w- Bulma," he said in a measured tone, "Because I will not repeat myself. I will admit, perhaps with some measure of shame, that all too recently I cared only for my own advancement, that my only desire was to surpass Kakarot and reclaim my rightful place as strongest of our race. But that has changed. I am here-"

"For Trunks, I know," Bulma finished with another sniff.

"Did I not tell you to listen?"

"Sorry."

"I am here for my son, that is true. But, I have vowed to protect you as well. You are the mother of my child. My…" he trailed off, uncertain of how to proceed. Bulma shifted, turning her body to face him, her cheeks still wet with tears.

"What?" she asked, damp eyes searching for his in confusion.

"You belong to me," he said, voice barely above a whisper. She tilted her head, blinking at him astonishedly.

"I belong to you?" she parroted quietly, "Not exactly the most modern way of thinking now is-"

Vegeta snarled and began to pull himself to his feel.

"Wait!" Bulma cried, grabbing his arm, "I'm sorry! That was rude. And stupid… Thank you Vegeta." He settled back down beside her, eyeing the ground adamantly. He stiffened when he felt her arm snake around his and her head fall upon his shoulder.

"What-" he began

"Shhh," Bulma said, "Just give me a minute and then we'll go home." Vegeta stole a quick glance at her and the strange, softened expression on her face. Slowly shaking his head, he turned his gaze upward to the stars, unconsciously allowing his muscles to relax.


	5. Germ Warfare

Vegeta rolled over, still half asleep, and was surprised to feel an emptiness beside him. He and the woman had spent another night together giving in to their baser urges, and had drifted to sleep after collapsing breathlessly upon his mattress. His eyes snapped open, examining the space before him. It was dark, still hours before dawn by his estimation, and yet for the first time since their encounters had begun he was the one who had awakened alone. He sat up and glanced about the bedroom, perplexed by her absence. They had fallen into an easy routine in the months following their disastrous outing. She had agreed to never again attempt such a ridiculous venture, instead opting to join him for the evening meals he took after completing his daily training. He didn't quite understand her need to be present while he ate, particularly since she insisted upon attempting conversations that he had no way of participating in while his mouth was already more than occupied, but she seemed satisfied with this arrangement. For his part, he found her company tolerable enough, incessant prattling aside, and was pleased to find that their squabbles had returned to the frequency and superficiality he was used to. He often suspected she sometimes picked fights with him to fuel nights like the one they had so recently passed together. Tonight, an argument about attending some frivolous gathering of the Earth warriors had quickly escalated into yet another passionate entanglement and their debate was quickly forgotten. Or perhaps not. It could well be that she had awakened, recalled her earlier frustrations, and returned to her own bed in hopes of spiting him. But then again, it was anyone's guess why the woman did any number of the inane tasks he had observed.

He stood up and went to his bathroom, choosing to take in an early meal and get started on the day's training rather than waste time trying to figure out what had roused her. After quickly showering, he dressed and made his way to the kitchen, his mind now wholly focused on consuming whatever sustenance he could lay his hands on. He stepped into the room and was met with the sight of the missing woman groggily seated at the dining table, head resting in one hand and a steaming cup of tea before her. Vegeta grunted quietly in greeting and turned his attentions to the refrigerator, grabbing several armfuls of carefully packaged leftovers and dumping them beside her mug. He sat down roughly in the chair across from her, shaking the table and sending hot tea splashing out of her cup and down its sides. The woman glanced at the small mess disinterestedly, eyes barely open. The Saiyan surveyed her suspiciously, puzzled by her lack of reaction. She was paler than usual but her nose was a bright red, as if someone had struck her, and her eyes were dull and unfocused. Inhaling, he noted that her scent was off as well, somehow changed and stale. He didn't like it.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked pointedly.

"I dunno," she said, her voice scratchy and rough, "I woke up feeling pretty awful. I guess it's a cold or something."

"Cold? That doesn't make any sense. The temperature-"  
"I'm not cold. I have a cold. It's a name for.. For when you get sick. I'm sick. Can't you tell?"

"Well, you do look unusually awful. And your scent is… Wrong"

"Thanks, Prince Charming. Look, that's why I got up. I knew you wouldn't understand or care, and I didn't want to bother you with my silly Earth illness. So just inhale your breakfast and let me suffer in peace." Vegeta opened up a container and pulled out a few large rice balls, still eyeing her carefully. He brought one to his mouth but stopped short of eating it.

"Your mother, she must have something," he said quietly.

"Mom and Dad went to a conference out of town. Remember?"

"I don't have time to keep track of all the cookie baking and newspaper reading your family takes part in, let alone the vacations."

"It's not a vacation, it's a very important scientific symposium. We do have one of the most successful companies in the world, remember?"  
"Science playdates or no, they are not my concern."

"Obviously. Like I said, they aren't here. I'll handle it."

"The boy?"

"What?"

"Who will tend to the boy? His training only takes up so much time and I have my own to worry about." The woman sighed and ran a hand over her red rimmed eyes.

"I guess I'll handle that too," she said, an edge in her voice, "I just hope I don't get him sick."

"What do you mean?" he asked, setting his food down.

"People catch colds from each other. It happens."

"He is a Saiyan. No human illness should affect him."

"Half-Saiyan. So it might."

"Well, I forbid you from-" He stopped abruptly as the woman's face took on an odd expression, her nose wrinkling and lips parting into a strange snarl. Before he could question this tactic, she let out a loud cry and ejected a vile combination of snot and spittle before her and over his meal. Vegeta's eyes widened in shock and disgust.

"Wha-Why?" he sputtered angrily, "You expect me to eat these tainted provisions now?"

"Sorry," she mumbled, rubbing her nose lazily, "That one caught me off guard. I'll get you some more food."

"I should hope so! And keep those outbursts to yourself!"  
"They're not outbursts, they're sneezes jerk! And I can't help it! I have a cold!" With that, she stood up and turned toward the counter, only managing a few steps forward before wobbling unsteadily. She reached for the table behind her but miscalculated the distance, missing the much needed support entirely and falling sideways. Vegeta caught her effortlessly, examining her shrewdly as he stood her back on her own feet. Not much to speak of in the first place, the energy he could sense from her was lower than it had ever been. He felt an unfamiliar concern growing in him and found it almost as unnerving as her diminished state.

"I must have stood up too quickly," she said, cheeks coloring slightly, "...Thanks." She moved as if to go to the refrigerator, but he kept his hands firmly gripped around her shoulders.  
"You are unwell," he said sternly.

"Yes," she replied impatiently, "I said that."

"I… I can't have you handling my food in the grips of this foul disease. You'd be better off sequestered in your quarters."

"I thought Saiyans couldn't be harmed by human illness."

"Of course they can't! But that doesn't mean I want to ingest your disgusting germs."

"Are… Are you sending me to my room?"

"Don't think you will defy me, woman. Especially now that your weakness has grown tenfold."

Before she could reply he pulled her into his arms and carried her out of the kitchen. As they climbed the stairs he felt her muscles relax, nearly going slack against him. He glanced down, checking to see if she had fallen unconscious, only to find her staring up at him placidly.

"What?" he asked with a frown.

"Nothing," she mumbled, shaking her head and snuggling into his chest.

"Hmph. Don't even think about getting used to this."

"Of course not." He entered her room and set her down gently. With a smile, she turned from him and went to her bathroom, returning after a few moments with a glass of water and two small white disks. Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she dropped the tablets into the water, causing it to fizz and hiss. She grimaced, held her nose and drank down the bubbling concoction.

"Will that fix it?" he asked skeptically.

"No, it's just to help me sleep," she explained, setting the glass down on the floor, "Rest is the most important thing."

"How long?"

"A few days probably. Just go train or whatever. If Trunks wakes up, I'm sure I'll hear it." She crawled under the covers and nestled down into the overabundance of pillows splayed against her headboard. As she closed her eyes, he allowed his to linger on her, inexplicably reluctant to leave. He knew that she faced no mortal threat and yet he was loathe to abandon her in this condition, her energy levels waning to new lows. It struck him that somehow, he was worried for her and he found the idea equally troubling and abhorrent. To think he, the Prince of all Saiyans, was fretting over this Earth woman who could be so easily felled by a microscopic enemy was laughable. And yet here he was.

His reverie was broken by a soft thud. He glanced into the hallway and saw his son carefully creeping out of his room. Vegeta stepped into the doorway, barring the boy entry just as he reached it.

"Ma!" the half-Saiyan said, pointing to room beyond his father's body.  
"Not today," he replied firmly, "She has her germs to keep her company. Today you will have to contend with me, and there will be no coddling."

"Twain?"

"What else? Come on boy!" He moved from the doorway and began leading his son down the hallway, quietly grateful for something to occupy his time and mind other than his unbidden emotions.

Bulma awoke slowly, blinking up at the ceiling with drowsy, heavy lidded eyes. As usual, the cold medicine had filled her sleep with strange, troubling dreams. This array of nightmares had largely featured Vegeta or, in some cases, his complete disappearance. When he was present he was cold and frightening, his evil nature fully returned. But when he was missing it was almost worse; there was an odd sense of permanence to his absence that pierced her heart more painfully than the idea of him taking up his old ways.

She blew out a long sigh and sat up, breath catching when she found Vegeta seated at the desk beside her bed, piercing black eyes fixed on her intensely.

"Vegeta," she said, not bothering to hide her surprise.

"You're still quite weak," he said assessed, "But your energy seems to have improved. Your scent-"

"Can we stop talking about how I smell?"

"Hhn."

"Where's Trunks?"

"Downstairs eating."

"By himself?"

"Relax. I secured him in that prison of a chair you bought." Bulma ignored him and stood up as quickly as she could manage, hurrying out of the room, through the hallway and down the stairs. When she came to the kitchen she discovered her son locked into his high chair, gnawing at a piece of meat bigger than his own head. Bulma's shoulders slumped in relief and a short laugh escaped her lips.

"What are you doing you little goof?" she asked affectionately, resting a hand on his head. He looked up at her and grinned, the oversized portion still clenched between his tiny teeth. She shook her head and walked to the counter behind him, opening up one of its drawers and choosing a knife to dissect her child's meal into more manageable bites. She returned to the high chair and gently removed the steak from her son's mouth, shushing away his protestations.

"I told you he was fine," Vegeta's voice said from the entryway.

"He may have teeth but he still needs his food cut up," Bulma returned with a sniff. She allowed her eyes to drift up to him briefly, taking note of his stiffened posture and averted gaze before refocusing on her task, Trunks greedily gobbling up the fruits of her labor faster than she could produce them.

"Thanks, by the way," she said, "For letting me sleep I mean. And taking care of him too. I've got it from here."

"You are still not well," he objected.

"No, but the nap helped, and after spending all day with you and eating this big lunch, he'll need one of his own. Cold or no cold, I think I can manage that much. You can get back to your training now, I'm sure you've been dying to." She looked up once more, her tired features attempting a reassuring smile, but he had already gone.

After another few handfuls of meat, Trunks seemed satisfied with what his mother had given him and began shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Bulma stood up, took her son into her arms and headed for his nursery. Once she had cleaned the boy up and wrestled him into his afternoon nap, the energy she had regained in sleep was all but exhausted. She walked down the hall, through her bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom, deciding a bath would do her some good before her next medication-induced rest. She filled the tub and sank into it slowly, the hot water easing the tension in her aching muscles. As she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, her thoughts drifted to Vegeta and his surprising reactions to her illness. She had left his bed this morning in an attempt to keep his sleep and the rest of his day from being disrupted, certain that the last thing he could be bothered with was her little cold. But in the kitchen she had seen the concern in his eyes, and his decision to look after Trunks and allow her to sleep was completely unexpected. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he had thrown her another curveball.

Reluctantly, she climbed out of the water and let it drain, toweling off and returning to her bedroom. She went to her closet and, after rummaging around for something comfortable to wear, tugged on a worn t-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts. When she stepped out of the walk in, she once again found the Saiyan prince seated at her desk, waiting with his arms crossed.

"Vegeta," she began, "What-"

"The whole day has practically been wasted thanks to this frigidity of yours," he interrupted, eyes fixed to a spot in the floor.

"I told you it's called a cold."

"Call it what you like, it has still disturbed any plans I had for training."

"That doesn't really make sense. I mean, you could pretty much train any time."

"I'm not going to debate you over the finer details of my complex training regiment. All you need to know is that I can't have my focus compromised by the distractions you and the boy have incited."

"So… What are you doing here?"

"Only making sure you do everything necessary to be done with this nonsensical sickness so that things can go back to normal." Bulma tilted her head at him ponderously until he ventured a glance of his own, their eyes locking briefly. A smile began to twitch at the corner of Bulma's mouth.

"Well?" He said impatiently, "Are you going to stand there grinning like an idiot or are you going to get back into bed?"

"I need to get some medicine first," she countered, "Otherwise I can't sleep." Vegeta rolled his eyes and pointed to the night table beside her, where two white tablets and a glass of water sat waiting. She opened her mouth to question him once more but he crossed the room quickly, took hold of her, and sat her down on the bed before she could utter another word.

Suppressing another smile Bulma dutifully prepared and drank down her medicine while the Saiyan watched her intently. When she was finished and had set the glass back down, Vegeta threw the covers over her and returned to his seat beside her.

"So," Bulma said, "Are you just going to sit here and watch me sleep?"  
"Of course not," he objected, "That would be ridiculous. I'm just going to make certain your already pathetic energy doesn't succumb to these Earth germs of yours and dwindle to nothing. And anyway here is as good a place as any to keep track of the boy." Bulma blinked at him silently, unsure of how exactly his plan was at all different from keeping watching over her while she nodded off.

"What now?" he growled

"It's just," she replied with a sniffle, "My nose. It's pretty stuffed up. There's some cream in a blue tub in the bathroom, could you rub it on my chest?" The Saiyan scoffed and shook his head vehemently.

"You are in no condition for that kind of physical onslaught," he scolded, "Besides, there's no chance I would want to take part in any of your obscene fantasies while under threat of your mucous launching fits."

"Sneezes. They're just sneezes. And the cream is supposed to help me breathe. Please?" Vegeta sighed and walked to the bathroom, still shaking his head. After a few moments he returned with the ointment, holding it at arm's length.  
"How is this vile smelling poultice supposed to make anyone feel better?" he balked, unscrewing the lid cautiously.

"Trust me," Bulma insisted, tugging down the collar of her shirt. Vegeta's eyes lingered on her partially exposed bust for a moment before begrudgingly dipping his hand into the tub and smearing a generous amount of the balm across her chest. Satisfied, Bulma sagged back against the mattress and pulled the covers up to her chin while Vegeta went back to the bathroom to replace the pungent salve.

"You're gonna want to wash your hands off," She called out, "Saiyan or not, that stuff gets in your eyes and you're done for." She heard him grumble angrily before the sound of the faucet drowned him out completely. Scowling, he exited the bathroom and again took up his vigil at her desk.

"Anything else?" he asked, menacingly sarcastic.

"No," she yawned, "That's all… Although, you don't have to sit so far away. I mean, seeing as colds can't hurt Saiyans." When he didn't respond, Bulma shrugged and turned away, allowing her eyes to close. As sleep began to take her, though she couldn't be certain, it felt as though the mattress beside her shifted and sank down, not unlike when Vegeta laid beside her.


	6. Behind Enemy Lines

**Thanks for all the feedback, following and favoriting guys! I really appreciate it! Here's one of two new, early chapters just because! Enjoy!**

Bulma pounded on the door to the gravity room, standing on tiptoes to peer through the small window set into it. Inside, Vegeta continued to train, keeping his back to her as he fired ki blasts at the latest series of drones she had built for him.

"I see you in there!" she shouted futily, "Open up!" Bulma sighed and lowered back onto her heels, bringing her hands to her hips. With the exception of the first night, he had been withdrawn since she had recovered from her brief illness. In the past week he had become as terse as he ever was, barely speaking in complete sentences and increasing his training hours to the point where she hardly saw him at all. On a few rare occasions she had been able to catch him in the kitchen but their conversations were somehow more one sided than what she was used to. It was as if, to make up for the reluctant tenderness he had shown her in her weakened state, he had decided to distance himself farther than ever before. Part of her worried that she had lost ground with him, that what little hope she'd had was going to be extinguished. But her stubborn streak had her convinced that, in some strange way, this was progress.

Suddenly the door to the gravity chamber slid open and she found herself face to face with the object of her frustration.

"About time!" she huffed, doing her best to ignore the rippling muscles of his naked torso, "Didn't you hear me knocking?" He threw a towel around his bare shoulders and frowned down at her.

"I was rather busy if you hadn't noticed," he replied cooly.

"Well now you'd better get busy getting ready or we're going to be late." He cocked his head to the side, his frown deepening into one of confusion.

"Did you forget?" Bulma asked, returning his glare with one of her own, "ChiChi's baby shower? I've been planning it for weeks. I ordered food, everyone's going to be there with-"

"I have no idea what you're on about," he returned dismissively, brushing past her, "But if it has anything to do with Kakarot's widow then it's no concern of mine." Bulma hurried after him, teeth clenched.

"We talked about this!" she insisted, "Remember, right before I got sick?"

"I remember you droning on about some such nonsense," he threw back, "But then I also recall you dropping the entire discussion in favor of a more physical one."

"I didn't drop it. I thought that we had agreed to come back to it after… You know."

"Well here we are again and I still don't care." By now they had reached his bedroom. She opened her mouth to lob another retort but he rushed inside and slammed the door behind him, causing the jamb to crack. Bulma stood in the hallway for a few moments, stunned. Then, biting her lip and squaring her shoulders, she took hold of the knob and pushed into his quarters. The room was empty except for the scant black shorts he had been training in. She could hear the shower going and a wicked smirk formed at the corner of her mouth. She quickly stripped off her own clothes and crept into the bathroom as quietly as she could. When he gave no sign of sensing her presence, she slid open the small compartment's glass door and stepped inside. Vegeta whirled around, eyes wide.

"What do you think you're doing?" he fumed.

"We weren't done talking," she said, shutting the door behind her.

"I'm not going to whatever ridiculous gathering you have planned. Now get out."

"How about we negotiate? You come with me to the party, and I'll do something for you, hmm?"

Before he could respond, Bulma wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. At first, he remained motionless, staunchly resisting her wiles. But soon he gave into her and returned her kiss in earnest, coiling one arm around her waist while the other hand reached up to tangle in her hair. He stepped forward, backing her up against the tiled wall with an aroused growl. Bulma smiled as she parted her lips and ran her tongue along his teasingly.

"So," she panted, breaking their kiss, "How about it?" Vegeta leaned in close as if to answer her with another fervid kiss, but instead shifted to bring his lips to her ear.

"Absolutely… Not." he whispered roughly. Bulma felt a rush of cold as the shower door slid open and Vegeta pushed her out into the bathroom, sliding the glass back in place behind her.

"Ugh!" she cried, grabbing a towel from the rack beside the sink, "Fine you jerk! Trunks and I will go on our own, like always. I'll tell everyone you say hello, especially Yamcha." When he didn't respond, Bulma wrapped the towel around herself and stormed off to her own room, leaving the discarded clothes where she had dropped them.

After a cold shower, Bulma speedily threw on the outfit she had laid out the day before, a simple red dress with short sleeves and a high collar, and applied a matching shade of lipstick. She then rushed over to Trunk's room, where her mother was finishing up with the boys own preparations.

"Oh hi sweetie!" the bubbly woman said, beaming, "You look so cute! We were just coming to find you! Doesn't our little man look so handsome? Just like his daddy!" Bulma ignored the comparison and glanced over her son's attire. She was almost certain the longsleeved dress shirt he wore was bound to be covered in food by the end of the day but she after her encounter with Vegeta she didn't have much time left to fuss over it.

"Thanks mom!" Bulma said distractedly, taking hold of her son and rushing out of the room.

"Have fun!" Bunny called after her. Trunks cried out as they bolted through the house and out of the front door to the driveway, giggling delightedly by the time Bulma stopped to throw down the capsule she stored her car in.

"Mama fast!" Trunks exclaimed, clapping his hands, "Again!" Bulma set him into the car seat and sat behind the wheel beside him, some of her tension easing as she took in her son's excitement

"Don't worry, we're gonna go even faster than that," she promised.

"Yay!" Trunks squealed.

"And you know what else? We're gonna have so much fun without your dumb old dad too! The nerve of him tricking me like that! Can you believe it? Well we'll show him won't we? We're not gonna let his stinky mood ruin our day!" Trunks threw his arms up in the air as the car lifted into the sky and sped off toward the Son's house. By the time they landed on the grassy front lawn, the caterers appeared to be finishing up their preparations and just about all of the guests had arrived. Bulma had initially wanted to throw the party at Capsule Corp, but she had ultimately decided that it would be easier on the increasingly pregnant ChiChi to have the shower at home. She knew better than anyone how difficult a Saiyan pregnancy could be.

Bulma scooped up Trunks and opened her glove compartment to collect the packet of capsules that contained various gifts for her friend, the baby, and even Gohan. Sealing the car back into its own miniscule container, she made her way to the back of the house, where the celebration appeared to be in full swing. After a cursory glance, she was happy to see that all of her old friends had made it; even Piccolo stood at the fringe of things, quietly conversing with Tien. ChiChi sat at a table with her father, and Gohan, smiling serenely between bites from a mountain of food before her.

"Bulma!" she heard someone call. She turned and was greeted by the sight of an approaching Yamcha, a smile on his face and his hands tucked into the pockets of his dress pants.

"Hey you!" She replied brightly, "Long time no see!"

"Yeah, it has been a while hasn't it? Time sure does fly."

"I guess we all needed a little time to recharge after all that android stuff."

"Definitely. Oh man, speaking of androids, did you check out who Krillin brought? Wild." Bulma peered past Yamcha to the table behind him, where Krillin sat with a familiar-looking blonde.

"No way!" she gasped, "Is that…?

"18 yeah," Yamcha replied. " Crazy right? Hopefully he doesn't make her mad or we'll all done for." Yamcha laughed and scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Well," Bulma said thoughtfully, "Good for him I guess. He looks happy anyway. And look at you! You look like you're not doing too bad. Peace times suit you."

"You too! And Trunks sure is getting big!"

"No kidding. He'll be a Super Saiyan before we know it."

"Speaking of Saiyans, is uh… He showing up?"

"Nope. Just us humans. Probably better that way.

"Guess so, with 18 here especially."

"Trunks and I are gonna mingle. Wanna come with?"

"Sure." Bulma smiled and started toward the crowd with Yamcha in tow, doing her best to put the absent prince from her mind.

Vegeta sat under a tree at the edge of the Capsule Corp grounds, eyes closed as he tried once again to banish the conflicting emotions boiling within him. Since the woman's illness he had realized that, somehow, in all of their time together he had grown to actually care, to feel for her beyond his self appointed duty. This attachment and its resultant sentiment confused and distracted him in ways that agitated him to no end. Though he didn't know how or when, these feelings had infected him swiftly and insidiously and the only way he could think to combat it was with distance.

And so he had tried to keep as far away from her as possible, training longer and keeping odd hours in hopes of returning to his former disaffected state. However in spite of all his attempts, the separation had done nothing to improve his affliction. If anything, the rare glimpses and meals they shared seemed to incite even stronger stirrings, none of which were improved by her vulgar schemings. This morning it had taken everything he had not to give into her sultry manipulations.

An errant smirk played about his lips as he remembered the shocked look on her face when he had shoved her out of the shower, naked and dissatisfied. And then he remembered her parting jab and his mood soured once more. He knew she had been trying to bait him and to his chagrin, in some small measure, it had worked.

Even before he had shown her any interest at all, he had marveled over how she could have ever deemed a man so pathetically weak a worthy mate. Aside from the obvious failings his energy levels presented, Vegeta had once overheard the woman mention the man had at one time been so inadequate that he feared all Earth women in general. Not to mention the low class females he had regularly associated himself with, all under Bulma's nose; Vegeta had smelled them on him even before the two humans had ended their relationship. The thought of her passing any time with such a man, let alone allowing him to ogle her as he had in the past, set his teeth on edge.

With low snarl, he opened his eyes and shot into the air. He had no idea where Kakarot's family had made their home but had heard the woman mention something about the East District, and so he set out in this general direction. In a matter of moments he picked up a cluster of energy far above those of Earth's typical inhabitants and adjusted his course accordingly. Sure enough, he soon found himself hovering above a modest dwelling and the celebration that surrounded it. For a brief moment, his eyes fell upon Kakarot's short bald companion and, inexplicably, the female android. He blinked in astonishment, and felt a mild, but familiar disdain rising within him. But all of this was quickly forgotten when he heard the woman's laughter from the other side of the yard. His head snapped in the the direction of the tittering and he found her sitting at a table with none other than Yamcha himself, his own half-breed child bouncing on the weakling's knee.

Vegeta dove toward them, landing without a sound and silently seething as he waited to catch their attention. In between hops, Trunks glanced up and and was the first to notice his irate father.

"Da!" He shouted gleefully.

"Uh I think you're confused little guy," Yamcha snorted, "I'm not your daddy."  
"Oh trust me," Vegeta said, causing the man to stiffen in surprise, "There is no reality where my son would mistake you for his father." Bulma turned to face him, eyebrows raised.

"You're late," she said haughtily, "You're lucky I ordered enough food to feed an army of Saiyans."

"I didn't come for this foolish baby bath of yours," he sneered, "My only concern is that my son isn't corrupted by the company of low-class warriors. It appears I've arrived just in time." With that, Vegeta snatched Trunks from Yamcha's grasp and placed the boy on the ground beside him, leaving the child to sit in the grass, confused. Bulma stood up and scowled at Vegeta, crossing her arms to match his closed-off stance.

"Huh, and here I thought this party was going to be boring," He heard Piccolo snark.

"You stay out of this Namekian!" he returned, still glowering at the woman, "I'm in no mood for your commentary." The green alien chuckled and fell silent.

"He sure hasn't changed a bit," the android mumbled, her voice tinged with amusement.

"Uh, 18 maybe we should stay out of it," he heard Krillin suggest apprehensively, "I mean-"

"You'd do well to listen to your bald friend you overblown appliance," Vegeta interrupted, "A confrontation with me would not end well for you now."

"What, I'd only break one of your arms this time?" The Saiyan prince started toward the table behind him but Bulma caught his arm and began tugging him away from the group. Generously, he allowed her to lead him away, all the while pondering on whether or not he would actually give the cybernetic female a taste of his increased power.

"Hey!" she snapped when they were some distance off, jerking his body to face her, "No one asked you to show up and spoil everyone's good time! Stop being a grump and calm down, or leave and let everyone enjoy the party!"

"And let that idiot man-handle my son and drool over you?" he spat, "Not a chance."

"Nobody is manhandling or drooling over anyone. Yeesh, what's your problem lately? First you can't get far enough away from me and now you're hunting me down and embarrassing me in front of my friends and Krillin's new girlfriend!"

"New? What's new about that deceptive hunk of machinery? Did she install a toaster oven? Can she dispense hot beverages?"

"Don't change the subject! What is going on with you?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you!" He easily slipped out of her grasp and averted his gaze pointedly.

"Well then I don't have to deal with your lousy attitude," she concluded, turning to rejoin the festivities.

"Don't think I'll turn a blind eye to you playing into the attentions of that dishonorable waste!" he called after her.

"What?" Bulma asked, pausing but still facing away from him.

"You heard me. I'm not going to stand by and watch that man attempt to interfere with what I've laid claim to." The woman clenched her fists and stomped back over to him.

"First of all," she said through clenched teeth, "Yamcha is my friend. That's all. And second, laid claim to? What does that even mean? You can't go around acting all jealous when you don't even bother to pay attention when we're at home!"

"Jealous? Of him? Hardly."

"Oh no? Then why did mentioning him get you to fly all the way out here?"

"What? That's ridiculous."

"Whatever. You don't want to talk? Fine. Just stop with the mood swings. You're making me dizzy."

She turned to leave once more, but he grabbed her before she got more than a few steps, launching the both of them high above the Son's yard and flying off with her clutched in his arms.

"Cut it out Vegeta!" she shrieked, "Put me down!" He ignored her and continued flying toward an undetermined destination.

"We can't just leave our son!" she screamed, "Vegeta if you don't put me down I swear-" He began to loosen his grip threateningly and she scrambled to wrap her arms around his neck. He smirked and finally chose a grassy clearing to set down in. When they landed, the woman pushed away from him and stalked to the opposite end of the small wooded glade.

"You better have a good explanation for that little stunt," she bristled, pacing back and forth, "I can't believe you-"

"I don't understand," he interrupted with a barely audible grumble, "Any of it."

"Any of what?" she asked irritably, still shuffling about.

"These… Feelings. They don't make any sense. There's no reason for them. No point. But nothing I do seems to let me be rid of them."

"Feelings?"

"You heard me… When you were weakened by that illness, I actually worried for you. I… Cared about whether or not you fragile body would be able to recover. And today, just thinking about that man spending time with you, it made me furious."

"So? That's how it's supposed to be."

"Maybe here. But among the Saiyans such attachments are weaknesses that distract from our true purpose, from our quest for power and greatness."  
"Shows how much they knew. Look how strong Goku got and he cares about tons of people."

"Of course you'd bring up Kakarot at a time like this."

"I'm just saying, maybe caring about someone isn't so bad. Maybe your problem is that you're trying to fight it when you don't have to." He sighed and leaned back against a nearby tree, shaking his head in disbelief. He felt her lay and hand on his shoulder and he looked up, meeting her softened expression.

"I will never be anything like that… Former mate of yours," he mumbled, lips contorting as if he had a sudden bad taste in his mouth.

"Good," she replied with a smile, "I don't want you to be. Just stop being such a dweeb ok? I love you and it doesn't need to be such a big deal all the time if you feel the same way."

"I never said anything about love."

"Just shut up and kiss me you jerk." She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to meet his lips with hers. Vegeta broke away suddenly

"What about the boy?" he queried, "You were nearly inconsolable just a moment ago."

"I think he'll be ok for a little while," she mused, "I mean, he is surrounded by some of Earth's toughest guys. Unless you think we shouldn't-" Vegeta held her close and silenced her with a forceful kiss of his own. When he began to tug at her dress roughly, she pulled away from him and expertly lifted the garment up and over her head, leaving it to fall into the soft grass at her feet. He took hold of her once more and spun her around, unclasping the restrictive undergarment that imprisoned her ample chest with one hand, and sliding the other beneath the hem of her thin lingerie. She gasped sharply as he first began stroking the tender bud between her legs, and then again when he eased a finger inside of her. When he snaked his head underneath her arm and brought his mouth to one of her exposed breast, she whimpered softly and shuddered irrepressibly.

"Yes!" she groaned desperately, reaching back to grip his shoulder and bucking into his touch as he slid a second digit into her slick entrance. With another cry she came, her walls clenching down around his rough fingers fiercely. With a pleased grunt, Vegeta withdrew his hand from her moist center and rapidly stripped off his clothing. Before the woman had time to recover, he wrapped his arms around her, and lowered them both to the ground. As he sheathed himself within her and their bodies began to passionately collide, Vegeta momentarily conceded to the tide of emotions he had been struggling against and lost himself in her completely

Yamcha sat at the table beside Krillin and 18, once again bouncing an increasingly fussy Trunks on his knee.

"Gosh," he said, brow knitting with concern, "I hope Bulma's ok. Vegeta seemed pretty ticked off."

He heard Piccolo huff out a breath in disgust and twisted his head to look at him questioningly.

"Don't worry," the alien said with a grimace, "She's fine. Trust me." Yamcha scrunched up his face in confusion as Piccolo closed his eyes and took a slow, almost frustrated breath.

With a shrug he turned back to Trunks and attempted a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry little guy" he offered gently, "I'm sure they'll work it out and be back in no time."


	7. Territorial Boundaries

**Here you go, 2/2 early-birds ! Thanks again everyone!**

"You know," Bulma began carefully, "I had a thought the other day…" Vegeta grunted disinterestedly, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as if his life depended on it.

"Most nights we end up in bed together," she went on, "And it seems silly to keep going back and forth between two separate rooms all the time…" She paused again, peering at him hopefully to see if he was following the direction in which she was leading the conversation, but his focus remained fixed upon the rapidly diminishing pile of food before him. He had trained late in the evening but Bulma had stayed up, laying in wait with the knowledge that the best time to convince him of anything was after a meal or with sex. When she had spotted him entering the kitchen she had nonchalantly joined him and allowed him to devour his meal for a few silent moments before tentatively launching into the beginnings of her proposal.

Suddenly aware of her eyes on him, Vegeta glanced up, mouth still full and glared at her dubiously.

"What?" he mumbled, several errant crumbs tumbling from his lips.

"I think it would be a good idea for us to share a room from now on," she concluded quickly. Vegeta swallowed with an audible gulp and crossed his arms.

"Why?"

"Well, like I said, we're together most nights anyway, so why don't we make it easier and have one room for both of us?"

"Typical human laziness. As if it is a difficult task to walk the short distance between our quarters."  
"That's not what I meant. I just think it would be nice to have a room for us, instead of sneaking around like it's some kind of big secret. We are together after all.."

"Apparently not enough. Do your vulgar cravings know no bounds woman?"

"Not just for that! We would sleep there too. I know you don't sleep much but when you did, I could do it with you."

"For what purpose?"

"It's just how it's done here, ok? C'mon, I think it's a reasonable request."

"I don't see the point in spending non-waking hours joined at the hip."

"Well then it can't do any harm either, can it? And maybe there'll be some nights we start off sleeping, and then…" She raised an eyebrow suggestively, causing him to scoff in return.

"What do you say handsome?" she asked with a wink.

"No."

"Huh?" Without another word, Vegeta stood up and left the room. Bulma shifted her eyes between the kitchen's entrance and the abandoned pile of food in silent befuddlement. As always what should have been simple had become a frustrating conundrum. However, in spite of the Saiyan's quiet complexity, Bulma had spent enough time with him to know that such a sudden refusal was rooted in something far deeper than just a passing reluctance or disagreeable mood.

Biting her lip, she stood, quickly cleaned up or packed away the remnants of the late dinner and headed upstairs as quietly as she could manage. When she came to his door, she raised her hand to knock on it gently, only to have it pulled out of her reach as Vegeta threw it open and scowled down at her.. For a moment, his grim expression reminded her of the one their son wore when he refused to go to bed on time, and she had to fight an inopportune smile in spite of herself.

"I will not discuss this matter any further," he said grumpily.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," she replied gently, "I didn't know that something like that would bother you so much."

"Bother me? Tch. I'm not some sentimental human. I simply have no desire to entertain your ridiculous idea."

"If you say so. But, I really wish you'd at least consider it. Or maybe tell me what exactly you don't like about it?"

"I see no reason in changing the way things are. If you are dissatisfied with the time I have allotted you then it is no fault of mine." Bulma scrutinized him for a few moments before shrugging and walking away to her own room. As she changed and laid down for bed, she wracked her brain for what could possibly make him so uneasy as to shut her down so abruptly. It wasn't as if they hadn't spent nights together before. If anything, the number of evenings they passed in the same bed had increased in the intervening months. However, the more she thought on it, the more Bulma realized that the two of them hardly ever experienced a full night in the same bed. Granted, things had improved substantially since their early days together. Back then, he would immediately and wordlessly disappear following the conclusion of their torrid exchanges, but even now he never stayed the entire night. Most of the time, he would leave just after she had fallen asleep, or silently slip away after only an hour or so of rest at her side. She knew this because every now and again his departures would awaken her, and she would take the opportunity these disturbances presented to watch him surreptitiously as he sneaked away. At first she had believed he left her to get back to the training he was so driven to, but on occasion, once she was sure he had truly taken his leave of her, she had peeked out onto the compound and observed him quietly meditating beneath a tree, or even staring up at the stars above them.

Unable to sleep with this realization swirling in her head, Bulma climbed out of bed and crept back down the hallway to the prince's room, surprised to see the door uncharacteristically ajar. With a low, deep breath, she pressed herself against the wall it was set into and eased herself toward the entryway gradually. When she heard his rough voice mumbling from the other side of the wall she froze, fearful that her clandestine investigations had been discovered all too soon. But when he fell silent and his muscular frame failed to appear, she haltingly continued her journey forward, peering inside when she reached the unattended point of ingress.

Vegeta lay on his bed, naked from the waist up and above the covers, stirring restlessly at odd intervals. From time to time he would mutter to himself inaudibly, his brow creasing and beading with sweat. Against her better judgement, Bulma stepped into the room and made her way to his bedside, her own skin perspiring nervously. Upon reaching him, she was able to make out his faint nocturnal ramblings.

"No!" He rasped, "I am the Prince of all Saiyans! I fall to no one!" Bulma frowned, his present state reminding her all too well of the Saiyan's brush with death following the gravity room explosion. Apparently the nightmares hadn't ended with his transformation into Super Saiyan.

"Bulma…" He grumbled. She gasped at the rare utterance of her real name. A warm, tender feeling began to bloom at the edges of her predominant concerns, only to be immediately replaced by one of guilt. More than likely Vegeta hadn't wanted her to observe any of this, and had refused this evening's offer to avoid such incidents. Feeling the weight of her hasty intrusion, Bulma slowly began to back out of the room. She was almost to the door when the Saiyan roared and sat up, his once black hair now golden and glowing. Momentarily disoriented, his eyes fell on her and narrowed. Bulma let out a surprised yelp and fled, face reddening. She sprinted down the hallway, into her own bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Her heart pounding almost painfully, she gave another surprised cry when the telephone by her bed suddenly rang out. Sighing and clutching her chest, she grabbed the phone and pressed the green button on its face to speak.

"Hello?" She said, "This is Bulma. Do you have any idea what time-?"

"Bulma!" Gohan's panicked voice interrupted, "I think mom's going into labor. She woke up in a lot of pain and I think her water broke! She weeks early and that could mean all kinds of-"

"I knew those baby books were just going to stress you out! Listen, is your grandpa there?"

"Yeah! He's packing up her bag!"

"Good. Call her doctor. The number should be on the fridge. Have him meet you at Central City Hospital ok? I'll head over too!"

"Alright. But Bulma-"

"Just breathe. It's gonna be fine!" Bulma hung up, stripped off her nightgown and threw on the shirt and jeans she had discarded earlier in the evening. Grabbing her purse, she ran out into the hallway and hurried to the stairs. When she passed Vegeta's door, she tried her best to ignore the disgruntled Saiyan leaning against the jamb, flashing a smile before jogging down the steps. In the living room, she slipped on her sneakers and exited the house, digging in her bag as she came to stand in the empty driveway.

"What were you doing in my room," Vegeta's voice suddenly whispered in her ear. Bulma whirled around to face him, once again attempting an innocent grin.

"I thought I heard something so I came to check on you," she said with a shrug.

"You came to check on me? As if I need protection, particularly from the likes of you."

"You're right! Silly human! Anyway, ChiChi's going into labor so, gotta go!" She turned away only to find him standing before her again.

"How did you-" she began, blinking in shock

"I saw you woman. What were you up to?" He queried, ignoring her surprise.

"Look, I really have to go, so either come with me or drop it." She began riffling through her bag once more when he grabbed her by the waist.

"Where is Kakarot's woman?" He asked with a sigh.

"Central city, a few miles East," Bulma explained, throwing her arm around his neck.

Vegeta shot into the air, speeding along according to the directions Bulma managed to squeak out between startled gasps.

"Thanks," Bulma said wobbling to her feet when they landed in front of the hospital.

"What is this building?" Vegeta asked, looking up at the tall structure quizzically, "It smells of blood and fear. Are there battles being fought on these grounds?"

"No, it's a hospital. For sick people. They come here to get better."

"This entire edifice is for injuries? The fragility of your population is staggering." Bulma rolled her eyes and quickly entered the building through its large sliding double doors.

"I'm looking for the maternity ward," Bulma panted at the receptionist, "My friend came in with-"

"Bulma!" Someone called from down the hall.

She turned and found a distraught looking Gohan rushing toward her.

"Hey kiddo!" She said brightly, coming to meet him halfway, "What are you doing out here?"

"Mom kicked me out. She said I was making her nervous."

"Sounds like your mom. Lead the way." Gohan paused, glancing over her shoulder.

"H-hey Vegeta," he said uncertainly. Not bothering to turn around, Bulma heard him grumble a short greeting.

"Don't mind him, let's just worry about your mom," Bulma said, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Right," he replied, turning away from the elder Saiyan to lead them down to his mother's room.

"You and I still need to have a conversation woman" Vegeta reminded her, suddenly at her side.

"Well it'll have to wait until after the baby shows up."

"I don't-"

"You wanna talk now huh? Tough." Before he could respond, Bulma sped up to walk beside Gohan, nose in the air.

Vegeta stood in a long windowed corridor, dozens of squealing newborn earth children visible through the many wide panes before him. After finding Kakarot's widow, the woman had abandoned him here to wait, presumably until the birth of the deceased man's latest halfbreed. He crossed his arms and leaned against a section of wall, glaring down at the floor.

In spite of her weak explanations, he was certain she had been in his room, uninvited, while he slept. It made him uneasy and the only reason he had come to this wretched, foul smelling place was to determine her motives and ensure that she would never do it again. A fairly confident part of him knew it likely had something to do with their earlier conversation about a shared quarters. He had foolishly believed she had given up on the notion entirely and now he planned on making it absolutely clear that such an arrangement was out of the question. Her stubbornness be damned.

His head snapped up when his senses picked up a slightly elevated energy. Through the window, he saw a man lowering a familiar-looking child into one of a sea of plastic cradles. Vegeta pushed off the wall and walked closer to the glass, head tilted as he took in the ward's latest addition.

"Looks just like him huh?" He heard the woman say as she took her place beside him and peered in the room.

"Another fool. Just what this planet needs," he said dismissively.

"Considering everything we deal with around here, another Goku couldn't hurt."

"Humph."

"So listen… About that room stuff. I didn't mean to pry, really. I just realized that we've hardly ever spent a whole night together and I was curious about why. Is it the… The nightmares?"

"You never can leave well enough alone can you?"

"Well? Is that why you won't share a room with me? You don't want me to see you having bad dreams? Because, I don't know if you remember but I've already seen you like that. After the gravity room exploded?"

"Yes, because all of my free hours are spent fearing what you think of me. Honestly can you really be that thick? Did you not notice that I lack control during these episodes? You could be killed."

"You would never hurt me.."

"So sure huh? You have no idea what I am capable of."

"Maybe not before. But now, I'm positive. You keep us safe." She touched his arm, but he shrugged away from her touch agitatedly.

"You're different now," she continued, "I think you've been changing since you… Since you died. Gohan and Krillin told me about how you poured your heart out to Goku before-"

"Can no one with an ounce of human blood keep their mouth shut?" He exclaimed.

"I'm just saying, you're not the evil monster that Freeza guy turned you into."

"Of course you would think that," he jeered, "But make no mistake woman, Freeza did not turn me into anything. Even without his interference, as a Saiyan I was always destined to be a hardened and cold hearted warrior, destroying anyone and anything in my path to glory and strength. I have no shame for what I am or what I have done."

"Well if you don't have any regrets, then why the nightmares?" He stood in thought for a moment, carefully contemplating his answer.

"My whole life, my only desire has been power and victory on the battlefield," he began, "Nothing held greater meaning to me than my quest to become the strongest in the universe, and nothing haunted me more when I had to face being outclassed, first by that abomination Freeza and then by Kakarot. That feeling of weakness, of being bested and denied my rightful place as the fiercest warrior in existence was and always will be something I can neither bear nor accept. And now, with each day that my abilities go untested against the only warrior left to stand between me and my birthright, I feel as though the gap between us will never be closed, that I face an eternity languishing as something less than the warrior I was born to be. These growing shortcomings could not be more evidently expressed than in my… attachments to this planet." Bulma wrapped her arms around her own shoulders, her expression wilting slightly.

"So, what then?" Bulma whispered, "You can't sleep because… You're miserable here?"

"... No," he said sullenly, "Even lacking these confounding ties, my sleep has always proved restless. Kakarot and the problem his absence presents are simply new chapters to an old tale. I was born to be a warrior and I will never be satisfied with second best, waking or sleeping. You and the boy have nothing to do with that." They stood in silence for a moment, neither one meeting the other's eyes.

"What are they like?" Bulma finally asked softly.

"Does it matter?" he returned harshly

"To me it does."

"... They change, from night to night. But now, I am often facing myself, what I once was, and I am found wanting in every way that matters. And then he… I destroy everything. I can't say which is worse: that in these trifling visions I have softened enough to be defeated by a version of myself that bowed to that freak Freeza, or that I wish to preserve my dull existence on this docile rock and ultimately, I fail."

"By everything do you mean…"

"Everything. You. Our son. Everything."

"But you would never do that and, if anything, you're stronger than you've ever been. And as far as Goku goes, who knows? Maybe you'll get another shot at beating him. Stranger things have happened."

"Huh. You truly wish to see your clown friend cut down? I would show no mercy if given another chance to defeat him."

"I mean, I don't think you could kill him twice. Besides, what kind of girl would I be if I didn't cheer on my prince?" He fell silent as he briefly allowed himself to contemplate a world where his chance to best his rival was not yet lost. It seemed impossible and he dared not give in to false hopes, but for a fleeting moment, something in him felt livened.

"I hope you know tough guy," she piped up, "you belong to me just as much as I belong to you, and I'm willing to bet that bond against any nightmare outbursts." Vegeta tore his eyes away from the miniature Kakarot in the next room and ventured an appraising glance at the woman. Her fearlessness was astounding. He could never be sure if she was uncharacteristically brave for her species or just stupid.

"You won't hurt me," she repeated, "I know it." He scoffed and turned back to the spiky haired child.

"How long would this room of yours take to prepare?" he asked warily.

"Actually," she said, grinning sheepishly but still looking away, "it's already done. I started working on it after the baby shower. It's got plenty of room and a big bed in case you go all sleep Super Saiyan" Vegeta shook his head, smirking in spite of himself. As frustrating as she could be, there was something to be said about the boldness she so frequently displayed.

"Not a bad day," the woman mused, "we get a new room and Trunks gets a new friend." Vegeta's smile faded. She always had to take it a step too far. Imagine, his son the playmate of Kakarot's youngest brat. Utter nonsense.

"You know, she continued, "I have bad dreams too."

"About losing a piece of jewelry or some such nonsense I presume," he mocked lightly

"Frogs."

"You compare my struggles to a-a fear of amphibians? Just… Shut up."

"No really. There's this awful one from Namek that always gives me the creeps." Realization washing over his face, Vegeta laughed in earnest, the woman's irate but perplexed face feeding into his altered temperament all the more.


	8. Early Recruitment

Vegeta leaned against the wall beside the sole window in his son's room, watching dubiously as Bulma fussed with the child's hair and clothing. That morning, after completing his meal, he had come to collect the boy for his daily instruction, only to find him already in the woman's clutches. When he attempted to take possession of the half-Saiyan she had refused to relinquish him, citing some ludicrous plan involving Kakarot's months-old brat.

"I can not see the purpose of this," he stated, not for the first time that day, "I thought we had dispensed with any dates for the foreseeable future. And what use the boy could possibly have for one is beyond me."

"It's a play-date, not a date-date," the woman explained, pulling yet another shirt over the boy's head, "It's for children, so they can make friends."

"It sounds like nonsense. He should be training."

"I figured you'd say that. But he's still just a little boy and he needs friends. I think Goten and Trunks will be a great fit for each other."

"Goten. What a stupid name. And I will not have my son going over to that infernal hovel Kakarot once called home for this senseless baby matchmaking."

"Ok."

"What?"

"I said, O.K. Trunks won't go over to Goku's house for the playdate."  
"I am no fool woman. What is your game?"

"Game? No game. We won't go over there, end of story." Vegeta eyed her skeptically, brow furrowed. With a satisfied nod, she picked up Trunks and headed out of the room, winking at him before stepping out into the hallway. Vegeta gave an irritated sigh and followed her to the stairs.

"He is fully capable of walking," he grumbled after her, "I've seen to that."

"You know," she replied, making her way down the steps, "For a guy who's finally been able to get a decent night's sleep in our wonderful new room, thanks to my brilliant mind, you sure are cranky today."  
"The ideas spewing from that brain of yours are the source of every headache I have had since choosing to remain on this planet. Now don't change the subject, reveal your schemings at once!" By now they had reached the living room and any chance of further conversation was cut off by a series of knocks. Bulma turned from him and opened the front door, revealing a smiling Gohan and ChiChi, the tiny, spiky haired Goten gently cradled in her arms.

"Hey guys!" Bulma beamed, "Mom has lunch all ready on the back patio! Follow me!" Vegeta glared at the group as they filed through the sitting room and toward the house's back exit, taking no notice of him whatsoever. Once again alone, he considered returning to the gravity chamber for a few hours more, if only to see to it that his entire day wasn't wasted on her shenanigans. But the notion of allowing her defiance to go unchecked, along with the disruption of his son's own training troubled him far too much for him to retreat so hastily. Shaking his head, he stalked over to the back door and out on to the terrace. The two women were seated at a small metal table, chatting animatedly over plates of sandwiches while the children had gathered some distance away, the elder of the three watching as the youngest two stared one another down from either end of a large blanket. Vegeta observed silently as his son made the first move, confidently marching over and kneeling before the infant, who lay on his belly, eyeing his would-be playmate curiously. For a moment, the boys were nearly nose to nose, silently appraising each other. Suddenly, Kakarot's child reached up, stuck a tiny finger up Trunks' left nostril and began to giggle. At first perplexed, a wide smile began to spread across the toddler's face, and he joined in the laughter whole heartedly. Vegeta began to look away in disgust when the baby brought up his other hand and weakly smacked Trunks in the face. Eyebrow raised, the prince refocused his gaze on the exchange expectantly.

"Hey Goten," Gohan cautioned, "play nice." Paying his brother no mind, Goten raised his hand to strike out again, only to have Trunks take hold of both of his tiny wrist and twist the boy onto his back."

"Twain!" He cried delightedly, raising his arms into the air in triumph. Goten blinked up at the sky for a few beats before bursting into tears.

"Trunks!" Bulma shouted, practically jumping out of her chair. Trunks turned to look at her, eyes widened innocently, leaving himself open for a frenzied attack from the child at his feet, now in the throes of a tantrum. When one of the infant's wild swings caught Trunks in the leg, he wobbled off balance and began to fall backward. Gohan started toward the tumbling boy but stopped short when the child caught himself mid air, hovering inches above the ground. Goten ceased crying abruptly as he marveled at the floating child along with the rest of the group. For his part, Trunks wriggled about for a few seconds before lowering back to the blanket, landing on his backside with a soft thud.

"Yay!" He crowed, breaking the silence and eliciting a new round of giggles from baby beside him.

"Humph," Vegeta said, finally stepping out from the doorway, "it appears that this meeting has served a purpose after all. The next generation has squared off and as expected, Kakarot's latest offspring has proven to be inferior to my own progeny."

"Are you crazy?" Bulma shot back, "You're son just tried to fight a baby!"

"Aw don't worry Bulma," Gohan reassured, "I think they were just playing. Goten's fine."

"Of course he's fine," Vegeta continued, "Saiyans were built for battle. A minor skirmish should be no cause for concern, even for these halflings." The woman shook her head irritably and turned to ChiChi anxiously.

"I'm so sorry," she said, "Vegeta's been training him and I guess he got carried away. I won't let it happen again, I promise."

"You know what? It's fine," ChiChi said thoughtfully, "If he's as much like his father as he looks, then he's got the hard head to match. Really, Trunks is probably the only kid he can play with without holding back. And anyway, my boys have to be tough with the world we live in, even if they are going to grow up to be genius businessmen."

"Your absurd future aspirations aside, we agree on one thing," Vegeta added, "These are no normal children. It is almost a certainty that you are looking at what will be two of the strongest fighters this planet has to offer, besides Gohan and myself, obviously." The blue-haired woman turned away from her friend and sat back down slowly, a concerned frown on her face. Doing his best to ignore this latest peculiarity, Vegeta continued to watch his son and Kakarot's infant, a tight-lipped smile crossing his face as he felt a new swelling of pride for the purple haired boy before him.

Bulma leaned against the railing of her balcony, wistfully gazing up at the stars. The rest of the playdate had gone off without a hitch. Following their minor scuffle boys had fallen into more peaceful interactions and Vegeta, satisfied with Trunks's show of force, had quickly departed to return to his training. When the children had begun to show signs of fatigue, Gohan and ChiChi collected a drowsy Goten, thanked her profusely for lunch, and headed home in the Ox King's car. The entire time, Bulma had kept a placid smile on her face and done all she could to act as though nothing about the earlier events had fazed her in the slightest. But what Vegeta said had in fact troubled her. Though she had known for some time that the boy from the future and her son were one in the same, there had always been enough of a disconnect to keep her from imagining the child she had given birth to as a warrior. Right now, he was just her sweet little boy, and picturing him as that hardened young man who could be killed by some alien or monster on any given day terrified her. True, she and Goku had been young during their early travels, but it was different now that she had to watch from the sidelines. The last thing she wanted was for her son to face anyone or anything like villains her friends had tackled in their adolescence.

"What is the point of a shared bedroom if you plan on spending an entire night outside?" She heard Vegeta gruffly muse behind her. She didn't answer, instead choosing to sigh and continue examining the faintly glowing night sky. Now that he had made his presence known, Bulma could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickling under his gaze.

"I've never thought of him that way," She said finally, "our Trunks I mean. He's gonna get big and start fighting like you guys. He might even get hurt… Or worse."

"Should he encounter a worthy opponent then injury is practically unavoidable," Vegeta replied, coming to stand beside her, "Such is the life of a warrior. Death is also-"

"You really know what to say to cheer a girl up."

"You can not possibly have been so foolish as to not realize all of this by now. You yourself became acquainted with a future version of the boy."

"I know. But since our Trunks was only a baby at the time, I guess I just always thought of them as two different people. I didn't think about it long or hard enough to let it sink in that one day the little guy would turn into the big one. But now he's walking, talking, and even flying, not to mention trying to fight. Before I know it he's going to be just like the teenager from the future."

"Our son will likely be nothing like that boy at all."

Bulma looked up at him, eyes full of confusion.

"That boy from the future," Vegeta explained, "he grew up in a time of desolation and with hardly any chance of survival. He did not have his father and all that he would have learned from him. That boy was molded by his circumstances, just as ours will be. I imagine he will be even stronger under my tutelage." Bulma sighed again and rested her chin in her hand, looking away and pouting in disappointment.

"That said," he continued, "there is no telling when this infernal peace will end, if ever. And it will be all I can do to keep him from softening among your planet's multitude of useless diversions, or the time wasting children's social engagements you've no doubt planned against my wishes. I dare say I would be surprised to find our son identical to that young man in any way beyond looks once he is grown." Bulma smiled slowly as she realized the truth in his statement. The androids had been defeated and things would indeed be vastly changed from what they were once destined to be, and that included her son and the man he would one day grow into. Though she would be lying to herself if she thought she could stop even a half-Saiyan from fighting, perhaps the chances of such instances would be slimmer now that the Z fighters and Vegeta had emerged victorious. It could even be that his confrontations would remain limited to mostly playful dustups with Goten, and it gave her no small amount of comfort to know that, when her son finally did find himself matched against an opponent, he will have been trained by the best.

Turning back towards him, Bulma snaked her arms around Vegeta's bicep and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Thanks," she said softly. He snorted incredulously.

"Your concerns are ponderously trivial," he replied, "I half expect you begin sobbing at the slightest threat of rain or the discovery of a missing garment."

"Oh, I'm the sensitive one am I?" Before he knew what she was doing, Bulma released one of her arms from his and lowered her hand beneath the top of his shorts, lightly grazing the tender spot where his tail had once grown. She bit back a wicked laugh as she heard his breath first catch and then release raggedly.

"You find that humorous?" He asked through gritted teeth. Her stifled giggling morphed into a muffled shriek as he swiftly tackled her to the ground, rendering her helplessly trapped beneath him but otherwise unharmed.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" She asked breathily, "We're outside! Someone could hear us!"

"Why the sudden concern?" He responded menacingly, "After all, by your estimation I am the sensitive one, correct? Nothing I can do should elicit that much of a reaction at all." As he lowered his mouth to her neck, Bulma felt his hand slowly ease off of one of her pinned wrists and creep down toward the waistband of her pants. She braced herself for a what she knew would come next, uncertain of how long she could keep quiet but determined not to give in without a fight.

 **Sorry I ran a bit late guys! I'll do my best to post again at the usual time next week, perhaps with a bit of a time-skip. Thanks as always for reading!**


	9. Coming to Terms

**As promised, here's the time skip, along with a little lemon to start things off...**

Bulma dug her nails into the scarred flesh of Vegeta's back, fighting weakly against the climactic wave threatening to overwhelm her as the Saiyan pumped into her hot, slick center. Unable to hold out any longer, she screamed the man's name breathily and gave into her orgasm, dragging him over the edge with her as her walls seized around his engorged member and brought out a roar that drowned out her own cries.

With a contented sigh, Vegeta shifted slightly and lowered himself on top of her, laying his head on her stomach just beneath her naked breasts, powerful hands lightly gripping either side of her torso. Bulma took a long, deep breath, one hand resting against her glistening chest while the other gently massaged the man's scalp.

Leaning back against the cushions of their shared bed, she couldn't help but marvel at how well things had worked out thus far. It had been nearly three years since Cell's defeat and in all that time Vegeta has surprised her not only by staying, but by seemingly settling into his life on Earth. Of course the intervening years hadn't been without their arguments and stumbling blocks. Getting used to Trunks' increased habit of flying around had been a particularly frustrating experience for her, and there had been a brief but intense blow up between all three of them over Vegeta's flat out refusal to take part in any of Goten's training, but overall the past few years had been better than anything Bulma could have hoped for. In fact, it was exactly the pleasant state of things that made her so reluctant to bring up what had been bothering her since the early hours of the day. She and Trunks had been sitting at the breakfast table, light-heartedly discussing his upcoming fourth birthday party, when out of the blue he had asked her a rather odd but sensitive question.

"Did you and dad have a wedding?" The boy had casually inquired. For a moment she had stared back silently, lips parted for a response she didn't have. Though certainly more talkative than his father, Trunks often took on the stoic demeanor of the elder Saiyan, particularly in the hours before and immediately following his training. When he had entered into an inquisitive phase, he had caught his mother by surprise, and this instance had been no different.

"Um, why do you ask?" she had finally replied with a nervous smile.

"Goten said his mom and dad had a big party with presents and cake just cuz they got marriage", Trunks had explained.

"Married. And yes, that's how it works."

"Did you and dad have one?"

"Um, no. Your dad was really busy training to save the earth, and then we got so busy taking care of you, that we just didn't have time to, uh, plan it all."

"Oh ok. Well you guys can still have one right?"

"Well, yeah I guess so."

"Well you should, so we can have cake and presents. We can do it after my party!"

"Well, we'll see what your dad thinks." With that the boy had nodded and dived into his breakfast, leaving Bulma to fixate on what he had stirred up with his innocent question. In the early days, she had had only the slimmest of hopes that her fling with Vegeta would be anything more than the occasional dalliance. When it had become clear that the man planned to stay with her and their son, and that he even had feelings for her beyond the physical, she had tried to let things progress as naturally as something as unique as their relationship could. Of course she had nudged the trajectory of things a little here and there and had often experienced the full force of his push-back, but she had never gone so far as to think of marriage until now. How could she expect a man who had struggled with the very idea of romantic feelings to participate in something that was all about the celebration of those emotions?

"What is it this time?" He grumbled suddenly, head still resting on her abdomen.

"Nothing," she lied weakly, "Just thinking about Trunks' birthday party this weekend."

"No reason to lose sleep over such a frivolous affair. After all you're the one who insisted on hosting it. No doubt the boy will be adequately spoiled just as you've planned."

"I just want to make sure it goes well. He's really excited."

"He should count himself lucky that such a celebration is even taking place. Were he born on planet Vegeta, no one would have bothered with such mediocrities. Hmph. Birthdays. Ridiculous."

"I know but… Hey, you're gonna be there right?" At this he lifted his head and gazed up at her in disbelief.

"You mean to tell me you actually expect me to take part in that useless function?"

"Well yeah! It is your son's birthday."

"You never insisted on my participation before. What does it matter now?"

"Before he was just a baby and all he wanted was cake and a few toys from me and his grandparents."

"And this time is different how?"

"He actually asked to have everyone come out to celebrate! He wants a party and his father should be there."

"The prince of all Saiyans will not lower himself to this Earth buffoonery simply to appease the whims of a child. I-" He was cut off as Bulma struggled out from underneath him and climbed off of the bed with a frustrated huff.

"You know what? Fine!" She exclaimed, as she began dressing,"Don't be there. Disappoint your son and make me look crazy again for trying to act like a family for once. You know he actually asked me today if we'd gotten married? That's a laugh, right? I mean you, Prince of all Saiyans thinking of anyone but yourself and doing something to make me happy." Vegeta gaped at her as she pulled on the last of her clothes and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. As she stomped down the hallway to her old bedroom, Bulma knew there was a small chance she had let the festering preoccupations of today filter into their argument, and that perhaps she had overreacted just a bit. But then again it had never occurred to her how angry it made her that everything that would have been normal for most couples was usually a fight for them. And she had more than underestimated how much, in spite of all their arguments, she wanted to be his wife.

* * *

Vegeta stood under the hot spray of the shower head, quietly simmering over the idiocy he was about to subject himself to. It had been two nights since she had stormed out of their room and in all that time she had yet to return. Initially he had taken her absence in stride, refusing to give in to her childish mood swings. But he had almost immediately noticed a negative effect upon his sleep, which had greatly improved since he had first agreed to share quarters with her. In turn, his training had suffered, his focus becoming muddled as his frustrations mounted. After the second restless night, his first thought had been to march into her old bedroom and bring her back by force, but he knew her well enough to see the flaws in such a strategy. Having little choice, he was left to puzzle over what had led to her abrupt departure. She was quick to anger over so many trivial and insignificant things, but rarely did she turn her back on him so vehemently and, as far as he could tell, without any kind of wiles or trickery. The upset over his refusal to attend this latest frivolity was typical, but her reaction seemed rather disproportionate to the offense. Turning her words over carefully in his mind, he had come up with nothing that made sense, concluding with some frustration that it would ultimately serve him best to at least briefly show his face at the festivities. However, should his presence fail to put an end to her tantrum, he would be more than happy to employ the brutish tactics he had first landed upon when thinking of how to tackle this trifling conflict.

He stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and dressed, stepping out into the hallway moments later, clad in demure Earth attire. As he walked toward the stairs, his ears picked up the woman and her mother rushing about downstairs as they made their final preparations.

"Bulma sweetie," her mother said, "why don't you ask Vegeta if he could help carry out some of those gifts?"

"Because I shouldn't always have to be the one to ask mom," she spat, "Sometimes a girl needs to be asked, not the other way around."

"It's just a few presents. I'm sure he wouldn't-"

"It's not about the presents!" Vegeta stood at the top of the steps, frowning as he heard them leave. The fact that she had snapped at her mother was also unusual for her, fickle moods aside. With a shake of his head he made his way downstairs and out onto the large field where the woman's temporary servants were setting out tables and containers of heated food. At least he would be able to get a decent meal out of this nonsense. He came to stand beneath a familiar tree at the edge of the commotion, eyes lazily scanning for the distraught blue haired woman.

"Hi dad!" He heard Trunks say. He glanced down and was met with the sight of his son and Kakarot's youngest spawn beaming up at him excitedly.

"It's gonna be the best party ever!" He continued, " Didja see all my presents?"

"A virtual mountain of senseless baubles, yes," he said, disinterestedly sweeping his gaze over the growing pile balanced atop a long central table."

"Yeah," Trunks laughed, "Mom's so cool. I bet when you guys have the wedding you'll get even more stuff!"

"And a big cake!" Goten chimed in.

"What are you babbling about?" Vegeta asked, eyes narrowing at them in irritable confusion.

"Goten's mom said people get to have parties when they get marriage, and everyone has to give 'em cake and stuff."

"I seen pictures!" Goten added with a nod.

"I asked mom and she said she'd ask you if you could have one after my party. So can we dad? Please?"

"Have what? A wedding ceremony?" Vegeta returned incredulously, nearly choking.

"Uh-huh!" The boys replied in unison.

"That's preposterous! Now run along before I lose my patience." Trunks shrugged and ran off toward the table full of presents, Goten right on his heels.

"What's postrous?" He heard the younger boy ask.

Vegeta snarled and resumed his search for his son's mother. Could it truly be that the notion of some silly Earth custom had riled her so fiercely? He had traversed the universe long enough to know what marriage was, though each society had its own unique traditions and peculiarities. Back when she had been entangled with the weakling, the woman had chattered nearly non-stop about what kind of ceremony she would have, so much so that even he had not been capable of drowning it all out. From what he understood, this planet's version of the ritual involved an exchange of promises, expensive clothing and an extravagantly wasteful celebration with one's relatives and allies. It all sounded quite simple if not pointless to him, though he could not recall her bringing it up to once in all of their time together. He finally spotted her at the opposite end of the clearing, greeting the bald fighter and the demented hunk of metal he called a mate, and he couldn't help but glower at her darkly. How dare she go into one of her fits over something they had not even discussed. Afterall, he wasn't in the business of reading minds, particularly erratic, hormone addled ones like hers. He was contemplating stalking over to her for an overdue confrontation, when she took the android's hand and squealed delightedly at what appeared to be a piece of jewelry encircling her finger.

"Really?" She cried, "When did he ask you?"

"A few days ago," the blonde said with a small grin, "He was so nervous…"

"Hey!" The short man protested, cheeks reddening "I wasn't that bad! I mean you said yes, right?"

"Of course I did."

"So," Bulma said, still eyeing the woman's hand, "When's the big day?" Kakarot's friend opened his mouth to answer but the android beat him to it.

"Some time before the end of the year," she replied confidently.

"That's soon. If you need any help shopping or getting things set up, let me know. I don't think I've been to a wedding since Goku and ChiChi." A wistful smile flickered across her face, disappearing in a flash as Trunks and Goten ran up to the group.

"Is that for me?" Trunks asked, pointing to a red box clutched in the female's hands. Vegeta looked away, his thoughts once more turning inward. He had been unaware of the specifics of Earth's marriage customs, mostly out of marked disinterest. In many of the societies he had come in contact with and subsequently destroyed, deals were simply brokered between the patriarchs of two families looking to create an alliance. Apparently this planet's males were expected to plead with the females for acceptance of their claim over them. He could not imagine a more inane concept, with the exception of the fact that the woman had somehow gotten it into her head that he had done wrong by not taking part in something so absurd. Had he not made it clear by now that she belonged to him? Had his words fallen upon deaf ears, or worse yet, begun to lack weight on this pathetic excuse for a world? He ventured another look across the yard, locking his eyes onto the creature who managed to be the object of both his frustration and his inexplicably fierce desire. He closed his eyes and sighed audibly as his son and his companion shot past him, giggling boisterously.

"Boys," he called reluctantly, "come here." The two half-Saiyans stopped in their tracks and tentatively came to stand beneath the tree Vegeta rested against.

"What else did you mothers tell you about Earth weddings?"

* * *

As the last of the catering vehicles drove away, Bulma re-entered the house and walked to the living room. Upon reaching it, she did her best to stifle a laugh that threatened to tumble from her lips at the sight of Trunks and Goten, both boys snoring gently on the couch amidst a scattering of her son's new toys. Rather than moving them, Bulma threw a blanket across the sleeping children and headed upstairs as quietly as she could manage. When she came to the door of her old room, she hesitated. Though she would never admit it out loud, a large part of why she had remained away from the bed she shared with Vegeta was that she was embarrassed and not entirely sure how to casually climb back under the covers with the Saiyan after storming out so dramatically. Of course she had been angry and even a little hurt, but more by her own confused musings and realizations than any of the man's refusals. However the thought of explaining all of that to him would be admitting to not only a lapse in judgement, but defeat, and she had never known Vegeta to be a gracious winner.

"Come on Bulma," she mumbled to herself, "You're a genius, you can figure something out."

With a stiff nod she took hold of the doorknob, determined to grab her toothbrush and head back into the room she had been comfortably sleeping in for most of the past few years. But when she pulled open the door, Vegeta was already standing just inside of it. She drew in a sharp breath and clutched at her chest.

"Vegeta!" She hissed, "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I would have words with you woman," he said firmly, "in our quarters."

"It just so happens I was heading over there anyway. I just wanted to grab a few things." She squeezed past his muscular frame, first ducking into the bathroom for what she had originally come for, and then picking up a discarded sleep shirt for good measure. She then pushed back out into the hall and walked to her current bedroom, the Saiyan Prince not far behind. Once inside, she sat down on the bed and crossed her arms as Vegeta closed the door behind them.

"So," she said, her voice calmer than she felt, "What's so important that you had to scare me half to death?"

"It has become apparent that your simple Earth mind is incapable of grasping the concept of Saiyan ownership," he began roughly.

"Hey! In case you've forgotten, I'm one of the smartest people you'll ever meet! I've been inventing all sorts of complicated stuff since I was Trunks' age!"

"Which makes your failure to understand what I have already pledged to you that much more disappointing. It seems as though, because of your bullheadedness, I will have to submit to your farcical Earth traditions just to put an end to these outlandish hysterics of yours. That said, I will by no means disgrace myself by kneeling, nor shall we host anything as remotely garish as today's childish revelry."

"What the heck are you even talking about? Hysterics? How d-" Vegeta tossed a small bag into the mattress beside her, forcing her to pause.

"What's this?" She asked, picking up the tiny pouch.

"Will you just stop talking for once open it?" He replied with a roll of his eyes. Bulma shot him a warning glare before untying the thin strands of fabric that held the diminutive purse closed and upended its contents into her outstretched hand. Her eyes widened as they fell upon a sparkling diamond ring now gently resting in her palm.

"Vegeta!" She whispered, "I can't believe-"

"Keep a hold of yourself woman. I only sent your mother out for that trinket because I was told that was part of this asinine process. If it's going to send you into some kind of frenzy I'll gladly dispose of it."

"Over my dead body!"

"So I take it we have an agreement?"

"I have so much to plan! I don't know where to start. Mom is going to absolutely flip out!"

"Woman!" Bulma's eyes snapped up to the impatient Saiyan. A wide smile spreading across her face, she rushed over to him and threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking them both off balance.

"That's not an answer," he said tersely, taking hold of her hips to steady them.

"Of course I'll marry you, you big jerk," she cried, several tears catching in her eyelashes.

Vegeta peered at her, seemingly mystified and disturbed all at once.

"What are you blubbering about now?" He exclaimed.

"I'm just really happy!" She replied tearfully.

"Tears when you're displeased, tears when you're content… You're going to make me regret this, aren't you?" Bulma pulled away and took one of his hands, gently leading him back toward the bed.

"Not at all," she said, taking on a sultry tone, "in fact, let me take a minute to say thank you."


	10. The Treaty and its Spoils

Bulma sat before a large vanity and mirror, nervously twisting the hem of her white silk robe as her mother, ChiChi, and Launch simultaneously worked at her newly bob-cut hair and makeup. Perhaps she would have been more at ease if the planning stages of the ceremony set to take place that day hadn't gone so eerily well. Almost immediately following Vegeta's surprise proposal a few short months ago, Bulma and her mother had dived into wedding preparations. From beginning to end they scrambled like mad women to make various arrangements, send out announcements and invitations, and reserve a location that would ensure them the utmost privacy. Of course, they could have taken their time and given themselves a bit of breathing room, but Bulma felt that to go about this with anything less than absolute urgency was to risk her groom having an abrupt but not atypical change in temperament, and suddenly refusing to participate.

All in all, everything had fallen into place quite nicely. They had managed to book a small but lavish seaside resort entirely for themselves and, with the exception of the now permanently absent Goku, all of her friends had delightedly accepted her invitation. For his part, the Saiyan Prince had been uncharacteristically cooperative throughout the entire process. Though Bulma hadn't involved him in much of her planning, the bits that had required his participation had been surprisingly painless. He had even gone so far as to estimate a birth date for the birth certificate she had taken painstaking means to obtain while organizing the required paperwork. There had been a few moments, particularly a failed attempt by Roshi and Yamcha at a bachelor party and an argument over tuxedo fittings, where she though Vegeta might have thrown his hands up and abandoned the arrangement completely. But once everything was said and done he had mostly managed kept his cool. Now that the day was finally here, Bulma could only hope that the actual ceremony went as smoothly.

"Bulma sweetie!" Her mother tsked softly, "Stop fidgeting or I'll smear your eyeliner!"

"Sorry mom," she replied distractedly, "I'm just a little on edge is all."

"Wedding day jitters," ChiChi reminisced with a sigh, "Even I had them, and I wasn't marrying… Well, uh-"

"The grumpiest man on earth?" Bulma suggested, "It's ok to say it. He is."

"Aw Vegeta's a lovely man!" Bunny said, "He just gets a little cranky sometimes."

"Well," Launch said thoughtfully, "I don't really know Vegeta all that well, but if he's good enough for you Bulma, then he must be something special. I think everything is going to be fine." Bulma smiled and relaxed her tense shoulders a bit. Maybe her old friends were right; she just had a few jitters, no cause for any real concern at all.

Suddenly she heard the beginnings of a commotion in the hallway outside of her hotel room.

"Hey man, come on!" She heard Yamcha cry, "Shouldn't you be dressed? And anyway don't you know it's-"

"Out of my way weakling!" Vegeta's voice cut in, "You're lucky I even allowed a low class, so-called warrior such as yourself to attend this ceremony. Step aside before I revoke my charity… violently."

"Better do what he says Yamcha," Piccolo's voice cautioned, "It's not worth one of his tantrums."

"You could be dealt with in the same manner, Namekian," Vegeta shot back, "Now where is she?" There was a brief silence before the crash of what was undoubtedly the disgruntled Saiyan's fist pounding on the door.

"Woman!" He boomed, "I demand your presence at once!"

"No chance bud!" She called out, rolling her eyes, "It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

"To hell with your idiotic superstitions! Open this door immediately!"

"If you want to talk, we do it like this or not at all!" She heard the man growl and fall dangerously silent. For a moment, she wasn't sure if he had left or if he was preparing to break down the door in spite of her protests.

"You're son and that bumbling companion of his," he began tersely, "It appears they have made off with that ridiculous garment you insisted on purchasing for this occasion. I'll have none of your screeching when you find me clothed in my usual armor."

"Oh!", Bulma exclaimed, jumping up and nearly knocking her mother over, "I completely forgot! One sec!" She hurried over to one of the many bags she had brought with her and began rifling through it until she came upon a single capsule.

"Here," she said, handing the tiny container to Launch before taking her seat and allowing her mother to resume her last minute touches to her make up, "Give this to him but don't let him in."

"Gee, I don't know Bulma," Launch replied, glancing at the door, "He sounds pretty upset. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if you just-"

"Sorry about this," Bulma interrupted, spritzing a puff of perfume at her. The woman let out a high pitched sneeze and was suddenly blonde and smirking.

"Don't worry Bulma," she said, "I'll make sure that punk stays put." With that, Launch walked to the door and pulled it open just a crack.

"What?" She heard Vegeta say, "Who are-"

"Take this and quit your complainin'" She spat, dropping the capsule just outside the door and slamming it shut. Bulma waited tensely for a few moments before releasing a deep breath as his low grumble receded down the hallway.

"Now that he's outta the way," Launch said with a grin, "Whatta you ladies say we-" Bulma sprayed another cloud of perfume at her friend, bringing forth another sneeze and returning her to they way she had been moments before.

"Oh my," Launch coughed, "That perfume tickles my nose. Sorry Bulma. I didn't do anything crazy did I?"

"Not at all," Bulma replied, "You were perfect."

"I think we're all done here," Bunny said, stepping back to admire her handywork, "Time to put on your dress!" Bulma stood up and walked over to the lacy white, strapless, mermaid-cut dress hanging in the room's small closet. With the help of her three attendants, she took down the gown and stepped into it carefully.

"There we go!" Chichi cried, zipping up the back for her, "You look amazing!"

"Look at my little girl!" Bunny agreed tearfully as she handed her daughter her veil, "I can't believe you're finally getting married!"

"Mom don't cry," Bulma cautioned gently, "You'll get me going and then both of us will ruin our faces."

"Alright, I'll try." Taking up her bouquet, Bulma hurried out of the room and down the hall, her friends and mother trailing closely behind her. When she reached the back entrance of the resort, she found her father waiting beside two opaque glass doors, behind which stood the beach and the aisle that lead to the altar.

"My dear," Dr. Briefs gasped, "You look stunning."

"Thanks dad!" She said with a soft smile.

"See you out there!" Launch chimed in brightly as she opened the door and, along with ChiChi, and Bunny, quickly stepped through it and out onto the carpeted walkway.

"Ready?" Dr Briefs asked, offering his arm.

"I think so. Yes." Bulma said, nodding firmly and taking his elbow With that, her father pushed open the double doors and began leading her down the aisle.

Chairs sat in a few short rows on either side of the path, smiling friends new and old taking up each seat. At the top of the lane, beneath an archway planted in the sand and covered in flowers, stood the priest, Trunks and Vegeta, both Saiyans clad in armor that Bulma herself had crafted. Vegeta's outfit, with its long red cape and broad shoulder pads, had taken the most time. She had wanted it be as authentic and regal as possible, and had had to tease little details out of him gradually so as not to give away her plans. And though the Saiyan's face was as unreadable as it ever was, something in his eyes, told her that she had done right.

Once they reached the awning Bulma let go of her father's arm, allowing the man to take a seat in a front row chair beside her already sobbing mother, and came to stand beside Vegeta with an irrepressible grin.

"Were you surprised?" She whispered as they turned to face one another.

"Even on a day like today you couldn't resist your usual trickery, could you?" He returned with a smirk and short shake of his head.

"You were surprised. Admit it."

"I will admit to no such thing."

"Ahem," the priest coughed, "May we begin?"

"Yes!" Bulma said, blushing, "Sorry."

"Indeed. Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Bulma Briefs and, uh… Vegeta Prince of All Saiyans… If anyone in attendance feels that these two should not be joined-"

"No one would dare defy my will human," Vegeta said quietly, "Move on to the rest of your pedantic speech."

"Sir I beg your pardon," the priest began, "But-"

"Please, it's fine," Bulma insisted.

"Fine," the man sighed, "Prince Vegeta, do you take this woman-"

"I do," Vegeta said impatiently. The priest paused and attempted to glare at him but was immediately rebuked by the Saiyans own warning stare.

"Hehe!" Bulma heard Roshi chortle, "That's the spirit son! Better to hurry up, she's not getting any younger!" Bulma was almost at once satisfied to hear the sound of something hard clanging against the back of Roshi's head and was silently grateful to ChiChi.

"A-and do you Bulma," the flustered man continued, "Take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, as long as you both shall live?"

"Sure do!" Bulma said brightly.

"Then I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride-I mean, if that's what you would like to do…" Before Vegeta could react, Bulma place her hands on his chest and kissed him gently on his lips, amidsts claps and cheers from the onlookers.

"Woman!" Vegeta balked, pulling away, "Control yourself!"

"Relax," she giggled, "That's just how it's done."

"This planet's vulgarities know no bounds." Bulma laughed and kissed the man again, inciting another fit of outrage

* * *

Vegeta leaned against the railing of the resorts patio dining area, impatiently waiting for the woman to finish with her lengthy goodbyes. The celebrations had carried well into the evening and while the food had been satisfactory and the guests only mildly bothersome, he was ready to take his leave of all of this nonsense.

"That was a really nice ceremony!" The bald man said, "Vegeta really looked like a prince in that fancy getup."

"What about the reception?" The pig countered, "Talk about a spread!"

"I was impressed," the blonde android added, "We'll definitely have to talk about my wedding next time we get together." Vegeta scoffed audibly but they took no notice of him.

"This was wonderful Bulma, thank you so much for having us!" Kakarot's widow exclaimed, hugging his bride tightly.

"Yeah, thanks Bulma!" Gohan said warmly, "And congratulations!"

"The food was real good!" Goten added, rubbing his belly, "And also I like your hair! It looks like how my brother used to wear it when he was little."

"Goten!" ChiChi scolded, pulling away from the embrace.

"It's ok," Bulma laughed, "Thank you Goten. Hey! You'll look after Trunks while we're away won't you?" Vegeta's ears pricked up. She hadn't mentioned any kind of travel before.

"Uh huh," Goten nodded, "I'm gonna look after him and his toys, Trunks said so!"

"We're gonna have like a hundred sleepovers!" Trunks chimed in

"Yeah!"

"I don't know if you'll be able to have that many," Bulma replied, "We're only going to be gone a few days. A week tops." Vegeta frowned. He didn't like that she had made plans for him without prior conversation or consent, and this instance was particularly offensive considering all he had put himself through with these Earth nuptials. He clenched the railing tightly, causing the metal to creak and groan.

"Well I guess that's my cue," she said with a roll of her eyes, "Trunks, be a good boy for grandma and grandpa! Thanks again everyone!" She gave her son a tight hug, kissed him on the forehead and turned toward the elder Saiyan, leaving the small crowd to slowly disperse.

"What's got you all bent out of shape?" She asked, hands on her hips "You just married the most beautiful woman you'll ever meet and you're already in a bad mood?

"We had an arrangement, did we not?" He answered, crossing his arms.

"Huh?"

"I agreed to these trivially ornate proceedings to make my claim over you clear by your planets idiotic standards, nothing more."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your travel plans, whatever they may be, we're not part of our deal."

"Guess again, Prince. Because the honeymoon is definitely part of the wedding."

"Honey what? Now you're just making up words!"

"Afraid not. We're going on a trip and that's that."

"Those brats never mentioned anything about travel."

"Well I'm not surprised. They're just kids after all. Now stand back." The woman pulled a capsule from beneath her bodice and threw it out onto the sandy beach beside them. After a few moments the smoke cleared, revealing a massive Capsule Corp spacecraft. When the door lowered into a set of stairs, Vegeta begrudgingly followed her into the ship, arms still folded over his chest.

"I was working on this before all the wedding stuff," She explained as the entrance shut behind them, "But after you asked me to marry you, I figured I should have it ready for us to go on an adventure. There's a bedroom upstairs and capsules filled with enough food to last even you about a week. And before you get all worked up over your training, there's a small gravity chamber just inside that lefthand room. Just promise you won't spend the whole time in here."

"Where are you taking me woman?" He asked as he glanced about the spacious vessel.

"Into space."

"But where?" She smiled coyly and walked over to a set of controls opposite the door they had come through, punched a series of buttons across the expansive keyboard, and suddenly Vegeta felt the machine shoot into the air at an impressive speed.

"How about you go check out that room I made and I'll slip into something more-" she began.

"Oh, now you want to put on more?" Vegeta jeered incredulously, "Our first moments alone, after having to watch you expose yourself to an entire crowd of your friends with that revealing garment and you want to-?"

"Ugh! Just go give it a once over and meet me upstairs, ok? Is that too much for your wife to ask?" With another huff she whirled around and made her way up the spiraling stairs at the room's center. Vegeta shrugged and walked over to the room she had indicated. Glancing through the small, circular window set into its aperture, he found that it indeed looked like a smaller version of what he was accustomed to working with on Earth, not unlike the unit that had exploded with him inside during his training over six years ago. Though the notion of this surprise trip still irked him greatly, he could not deny that she had gone through quite a bit of effort to prepare for this day. Finally hidden from any prying eyes for the first time since early that morning, he glanced down at the armor she had crafted and allowed himself a tight lipped smile. She had done incredibly well for someone almost entirely lacking in knowledge of the Saiyan race. When he had caught himself in a reflective surface during the festivities, he had almost mistaken his image for that of his own father.

"Hey!" She called down to him, "You think you could come up here for a sec? I need your opinion."

"Make up your mind woman!" He shouted back, nevertheless climbing the steps, "First you ask me to examine your no doubt subpar gravity chamber and now you're shrieking at me to help you with some inane decision? I will not be-" He stopped his tirade once he reached the top landing and his eyes fell upon the wide bed before him. The woman lounged across an array of cushions set against the headboard, dressed in a bustier comprised of saiyan armor and a pair of lacy underwear that left almost nothing to the imagination. Over her left eye, she wore a green-lensed scouter.

"Well?" She said nonchalantly, "What do you think?" He remained speechless, eyes taking her in hungrily.

"Not good, huh?" She continued, "Oh well. I guess I'll just go changed into my PJ's. It was worth a try." She started to rise off of the bed when he rushed her, gently pushing her back down onto the mattress.

"What's the matter?" She said with a coy smile, "You don't want me to take it off?"

"Not just yet," he rasped through a smirk of his own. He pulled himself on top of her and initiated a fierce kiss, lightly gripping her short hair with one hand while sliding the other around her waist. While his guard was lowered, she hooked her right leg over his hip and twisted, tumbling him onto his back and coming to straddle him with a short triumphant laugh.

"I can't let you have all the control now can I?" She mused devilishly, "I mean, seeing as I _am_ Saiyan royalty now."

"Is that so?" He replied, deftly removing the gloves and torso piece of his armor and tugging his jumpsuit down to his waist. Before she could respond, he tore off the scant material barely covering her lower half, looped his muscular arms beneath her thighs and pulled her forward, positioning her just above his parted lips. She gasped sharply as he began exploring her tender folds with his tongue, alternatively teasing the sensitive bud at her core and skirting around her rapidly moistening opening. He lowered her closer still, now partially enveloping her enervated center with his mouth, suckling and lapping at her more intensely . When she let out a high pitched wail and he felt her body quiver in orgasm, he grinned against her in satisfaction, relishing the sweet taste of her release. He continued his ministrations a few moments more before returning her to her former seat just above his lap, peering up at her smugly as she placed her hands on his abdomen and propped herself up shakily.

"Yes," he chuckled, "I can see you are in complete command of the situation." In response, the woman pulled his jumpsuit down past his hips, releasing his now fully erect member. She shifted farther down his body, teasing the head of his arousal with her wet heat but ultimately denying him entry.

"I'm not finished just yet," she purred "Or would you prefer leave it at a standoff?"

"Vulgar woman," he replied with an impassioned growl. Biting the corner of her bottom lip she eased him into her slick entrance, letting out a low, breathy groan. He jerked his head back against the mattress involuntarily as she swiveled her hips in slow, languid circles, tilting her own head back and closing her eyes. Gradually, she began to pick up speed, forgoing her torturous pivoting in favor of a less measured rocking motion. He reached up and whipped the armor up and over her head, freeing her breasts momentarily before he greedily taking them into his hands, kneading the tender flesh and grazing her hardened nipples with his rough fingers. A purposeful clench of her internal muscles brought him into a seated position and he moved his grip to her backside as she threw her arms around his neck and raked one set of nails across his shoulder. Their combined thrusting became frenzied an uneven as both struggled to stretch their composure to its limits.

"Vegeta!" She cried, "I'm so close, I-I-ahhhh!"

She shuddered against him fiercely, her walls crashing down around him wildly. His fortitude all but destroyed, he jerked his head back and yielded to his own pleasure, bellowing hoarsely before falling back to the mattress, his wife held fast to his sweat covered chest.

"Truce?" She asked with a ragged pant.

"Not a chance," he exhaled harshly in return, "Once you're fragile body can regulate it's breathing normally, I'll return your vexing indecencies tenfold."

"Big talk for a guy who can barely speak he's so winded."

"Nonsense."

"Whatever you say." She nuzzled into his chest and he closed his eyes, intending only to rest briefly. Soon, they were both fast asleep.

* * *

A loud electronic chirping sounded throughout the ship, jarring them awake. With a sudden renewed energy, Bulma rolled off of Vegeta and walked over to the far right end of the room. She opened a small panel set into the floor, and flipped up a small green switch within it. The wall immediately beside her rose up and out of sight, revealing a large window that provided an impressive view of the black expanse they currently drifted in.

"We're here!" She said, smiling back at him before fixing her eyes on the void.

"Where?" He asked with a frown as he came to stand beside her, "We can't possibly have reached any viable destination already. It hasn't been more than a day."

"I've been working on improving Saiyan space travel technology since we got back from Namek. It took me a long time, especially with the whole Androids scare, but I think I nailed it! If we wanted to, this thing could get us from Earth to Namek in about 12 hours!"

"Nailed? What are you on about? Where are we? Not that infernal green planet again?"

"Of course not! This is… Or I guess was, Planet Vegeta." The Saiyan stared at her in disbelief before turning and pressing his hand against the glass, bringing his nose inches from its surface.

"How?" He asked in hushed tones, "How is it that you could even find this place?"

"I have my ways," She said proudly, "And the dragon may have helped a little."

"You used a wish for this?"

"Well, things have been pretty peaceful on Earth, so I didn't feel too bad using it up. Besides, this was important." She watched him closely as he continued to gaze out at the remote darkness where his homeworld once stood. As usual, she couldn't quite decipher his stony expression, and soon his quiet lack of reaction began to make her nervous.

"Are you surprised?" She asked cautiously, "Like, in a good way?" When he failed to respond, she pursed her lips anxiously and moved closer.

"Hey," she attempted once more, "Are you-" He stepped back suddenly and returned his inscrutable, dark glare to her. Her brow furrowed apprehensively. This trip had been one of the few things besides his armor that she could think to gift him with for their wedding. He wanted for little and valued so few gestures, and she had thought that she had finally come up with something he would be pleased with. But perhaps seeing the emptiness of the space that had once held planet Vegeta had incited bitterness rather than nostalgia and gratitude.

"Vegeta," she began, "I only wanted to-" He moved closer and wrapped his arms around her gently. Doing her best to hide her shock, Bulma slowly returned his unexpected embrace.

"I used to gaze upon these stars with my father," he explained quietly, "Dreaming of the greatness I would achieve. It was one of the few memories I look back on without rage or disappointment… Thank you, Bulma." She pulled back and stared up at him, no longer bothering to mask her surprise. Never in a million years had she pictured this for her future, and yet here she was, blissfully married to a man she once had believed to be quite incapable of love in any form.

"Stop looking at me like that," he demanded, breaking eye contact quickly, "You act as if I've sprouted a new head or something. All I did was express my gratitude. Will you make me regret it?"

"You're right, I'm sorry," she said, "I'm glad you like it. And it's the least I could do to thank you for the wedding."

"Hn."

"So were you surprised? Admit it, I surprised you. Two times actually."

"You think you've bested me with your calculated revelations?"  
"A maybe just a little completely, yeah." He looked out into the stars once more before scooping her up and returning to their bed.

"We'll see how superior you think you are when I'm through with you, wife" he snarled amorously as he pinned her arms above her head. Bulma smiled back at him boldly, eagerly awaiting the fruits of her husband's challenge.

* * *

 **Sorry I was late you guys! This was a long one and just about the end, so I wanted to get it just right. I hope you've enjoyed it!**


	11. Epilogue: Unconditional Surrender

Vegeta stood at the railing of the balcony just beyond his bedroom. Their bedroom. Or so it had been in the days before the 25th World Martial Arts Tournament and the disastrous events that had followed. Now, he couldn't be sure. As it had always been, since the early days of their relationship, Vegeta was wary of the woman's silences, particularly when she held a smile in place of a more natural, relaxed expression. Only this time, rather than any potential schemings or forthcoming outbursts, it was what she refused to say or do that unnerved him. She had grinned all through their reunion at the lookout, and her temperament had been, by all appearances, level throughout dinner and as she had sent Trunks off to bed. But all the while, he could sense something simmering just beneath the surface, something that she had yet to release even now that they were the only two beings still awake on the compound. He had come out here to think, and perhaps to escape her voluminous silences, and hours had passed as he found himself both uncertain of what to do and of whether or not he could even bring himself to re-enter what had been his home for the better part of a decade. He had fought and died and fought again to stop the monster Majin Buu, but all of that did little to assuage this sudden outcropping of long absent conscience when he took into account that the creature's release had been his fault in the first place.

His shoulders tensed as he heard her tentative footsteps behind him.

"Vegeta." She said in a soft but firm tone. Not for the first time today he kept his back to her, unwilling or, for all his strength, unable to face her. He clenched his fists and sneered at his own cowardice.

"Ok, fine," she sighed, "I'll talk, you listen. I spoke to Trunks, Goku, even Piccolo about… Well about what happened. They told me you died protecting us, knowing where you'd go in the afterlife, and that you fought Majin Buu again even though if he killed you, you'd be gone forever. And I know you that right before you died, you told Trunks you were proud, and that you were thinking of us… What I don't know… What I can't understand is why any of it had to happen in the first place. ChiChi and the others told me, over and over that that thing… that alien did something to you but… I just can't believe that you would turn your back on us just like that, and on purpose too. I mean, for what? To be the strongest and beat Goku? To be… How you used to be? Do you hate it here so much that-"

"No," he said sharply.

"Then why?" They stood in silence for a moment, her gaze boring into him, the scent of her fresh tears tingeing the night air with a salty bitterness.

"I was a fool," he said finally, shaking his head, "Perhaps I am still, returning here as if no ills had passed between us. Once again, I was betrayed by my pride and…"

"And what?" She said, raised voice teetering on the edge of composure.

"And my fear."  
"What could you be afraid of? You of all people? Us? You're family?"

"I was afraid to relinquish what I was once and for all, to be weak. I thought that if I gave up everything that I had embraced on this Earth I would be able to defeat Kakarot and finally be at peace. But instead, I lost sight of what it meant to be a true warrior and I gained nothing at all for my transgressions. I dishonored my heritage and our family, and didn't even have a victory to show for it." They lapsed into another unbearably thick silence and an entirely unfamiliar sensation began to churn in his stomach, as if there was a deep, almost painful pit in his gut.

"If you wish for me to leave," he resumed grimly, "I can be gone this very instant, from this entire planet if you deem it necessary. After all, my decisions were directly responsible for its destruction. For the deaths of the only humans I ever..." He trailed off, failing as always to allow such sentimentalities to escape his lips. When he heard her footfalls once more he initially assumed she was leaving, her unspoken decision clear. So it was to his great surprise when she embraced him from behind, her arms encircling his waist and her delicate hands meeting at the center of his abdomen.

"You jerk!" She cried into his back, "Don't you ever leave us again."

"Wha-" he stammered, "I was only-"

"I know what you were trying to do. But you don't get to run off just because of this. We still need you. I still need you." He twisted around to face her, taking her face into his hands.

"But why?" He asked, "After everything I have done…"

"You're still my husband," she concluded with a sniff, "And I still love you. You've done a lot of bad, but if you're coming back to us means anything, then you're not evil anymore, not that I needed some stupid dragon to tell me that."

"Hhn." He looked away, hands still gently cradling either side of her head.

"Bulma," he said in a near whisper, "I… I am sorry. For all of it. You must know that I-"

"I know," she said with a nod, tears still rimming her lower lashes, "Now promise you won't go. You can't. Not after all of this." He forced himself to meet her sparkling blue eyes with his own, his onyx stare piercing yet undoubtedly clouded by a vulnerability he was completely unaccustomed to.

"You have my word," he offered finally. The woman choked out another sob before pulling him into a desperately passionate kiss, holding him as tightly as her fragile human body could manage.

"I'm still really mad at you," she said, breaking the kiss and frowning at him almost childishly.

"I would expect nothing less," he returned, pulling her to his chest and inhaling the sweet scent of her close cropped hair, "And I would have it no other way."

* * *

 **This is the end of this story. Thank you for all your reviews, favorites, and following. This has been so much fun to write.**


	12. Afterword (Author's Note)

Thank you all for taking an interest in my fic. I originally started writing this during a period of writer's block and it grew enormously from there. It was really great to see that so many of you enjoyed this story, particularly since I wasn't sure if I could pull it off and keep everyone in character as much as I wanted to. Apologies to anyone who is sad to see things end or felt that it ended a bit suddenly. I just felt that I had reached a pretty natural ending to the arc I was working with. In the intervening years (before the Tournament/Majin Buu Saga) I feel like Bulma and Vegeta would have a pretty uneventful few years, not counting their bedroom habits of course. Afterall, the only major events that take place over those remaing few years are Krillin & 18's marriage and the birth of their child, events that I just couldn't logically picture Vegeta taking part in, and considering this has always been about both Bulma and Vegeta, I feel like my stories for them during this stage of their relationship were at an end. That said, I chose to take things past the epilogue because it just didn't sit super well with me to leave them clueless, albeit blissfully happy, while knowing what was ahead. I thought that it would be a good bookend to, first, address that turmoil from Vegeta's decision to go Majin, second, show the growth between them, and finally, get a little gooey without taking Vegeta OOC (if ever he was vulnerable, I suspect it would have been right after Cell, at the beginning of this fic, and follwing Majin Buu's defeat). I hope that I didn't disappoint anyone and that overall this has been a fun and interesting read for you. Thanks again and take care

-Blaze the Dork


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